


The Depths of the Heart

by NyxWordsmith



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood, Burns, Graphic Violence, Immobilization, Implied Abuse (emotional), Implied abuse, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Panic Attack, Physical Abuse, So much angst, Strangulation, Swearing, Torture, Violence, Weapons (sword), descriptions of injuries, difficulty breathing, growing relationship, implied abuse (verbal), maybe a little fluff, physical violence, road to recovery, shortness of breath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-02 04:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13310232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxWordsmith/pseuds/NyxWordsmith
Summary: (Abandoned)It's been a weird few months. Boundaries are still being tested, Roman is still picking himself up, and the relationship is slowly, but surely, growing.But there's something deep in the mindscape that Virgil's been ignoring. Something he should have dealt with a while ago. And Patton is more than happy to pretend it doesn't exist at all.Until it finally gets free.





	1. Prologue

 The soft clinking of glasses, muffled by soapy water, was the only sound in the mindscape at three in the morning, the kitchen light casting an eerie glow onto the commons.

 There, over the sink, was Roman, arms in the soapy water as he yawned to himself. Tall and imposing, he was wearing nothing more than his black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of soft grey flannel pants. His hair was a mess, eyes foggy as he tried to focus on the task at hand.

 Despite his obvious exhaustion (he yawned again), his mind refused to slow for even a moment, which is exactly what drew him out of the warm comfort of Patton’s bed to the kitchen.

 He sighed to himself as he put a soapy glass on the rack beside the sink, watching bubbles as they slid down the clean glass before returning to the ones in the sink.

 He heard the sound of fabric rubbing as uneven feet padded down the stairs, then a soft sigh, “Princey…” Virgil’s gravelly, fatigued voice interrupted the royal’s thoughts for a moment, “What are you doing up?” he yawned, rubbing his eye as he ventured into the kitchen.

 Roman sighed, “Couldn’t sleep.” He admitted with a shrug, broad shoulders dropping lower than before, “What about you?”

 Virgil snorted as he opened the fridge, “Same old, same old.” He pulled a carton of milk out, “Want a glass?”

 Roman glanced over his shoulder, eyes rising to Virgil’s and then back to the milk as he processed the question. A fond, sympathetic expression pulled onto Virgil’s face before the royal nodded to him, returning to his task at hand.

 Familiar with Roman’s current struggle, Virgil moved quietly as he prepared two glasses of milk and put the carton back into the fridge, “Were those even dirty?” Virgil asked, glancing to an empty cabinet behind Roman’s head.

 The royal’s lips twisted, “Once I started, I couldn’t stop.” He whispered, “These ones probably weren’t.”

 “Anything you want to talk about?” Virgil held his glass of milk to his lips but it was clear he was waiting, watching Roman’s profile as the fatigued prince thought out his response.

 “It’s the usual stuff, Virgil.” When he’d finally answered, Virgil took a mouthful of milk, “Not being enough, losing you guys, doing more.” He paused for a moment, to rub at his eyebrow with his wrist. A small cluster of bubbles stuck there as Roman returned to his task, blissfully unaware. “I don’t know, I guess I’m getting frustrated.”

 The anxious Side snorted, shaking his head, “You shouldn’t be.” He shrugged as Roman finally ran out of glasses to clean. “Even _this_ counts as an improvement.”

 Sink filled with nothing but warm soapy water, Roman finally turned to meet Virgil’s eyes again. The anxious Side noted that the royal hadn’t pulled his hands out of the water yet, “What do you mean?”

 Virgil reached up to brush the cluster of bubbles off his brow, smirking at the surprise flashing in Roman’s eyes, “If I recall correctly, last time this happened, you sat on the couch and brooded.” Roman’s eyes dropped to the floor, “Nearly sent us into a panic attack too.”

 “Sorry about that.” Roman whispered guiltily, turning to look back down at the bubbles. He moved his hands aimlessly in the water, watching the bubbles as they danced on the surface. It brought a ghost of a smile to his face.

 “I’m just proud that you picked a task.” Virgil admitted, putting his now empty glass of milk down and stepping around Roman for a hand towel.

 He didn’t need to turn around to know that Roman had snatched up the dirty glass, and was now washing it in the sink slowly.

 Virgil started drying the glasses slowly, “Leave that one for a second.”

 The royal froze in place, looking suddenly stricken at the idea, “But-“

 “This is your glass of milk. And it’s not going to empty unless you drink it.”

 Panic was flashing in Roman’s eyes, his hands no doubt clenching and flexing under the water, “Virgil…”

 “You can’t drink it with your hands in the water.”

 It was unusual to hear Virgil _reasoning_ with someone, but he’d spent a significant amount of time around Logan. Maybe the logical Side was rubbing off on him.

 He was hesitant and slow, but Roman drew his hands out of the water, and Virgil offered the towel in his hands for Roman to dry them. Eventually, Roman picked up the glass and glanced at Virgil, nervous.

 The royal’s hands were red from the hot water, soap and no doubt constant scrubbing. Virgil had noticed that particular habit getting far too frequent, and had already started making steps to help him stop. It still bothered him.

 With an encouraging smile, Roman drank down the milk, hurriedly putting it in the warm water and relaxing a little as he started cleaning it.

 “There we go.” Virgil had dried most of the rack by then, and started putting them away before Roman could take them and wash them. He had no idea how many times Roman had completed the cycle that night, but he was going to help break it.

 They continued in silence for a few moments, and Roman finished the two glasses he had. He kept his hands in the water for a while, playing with the bubbles while Virgil finished up with the wet glasses and when the last one was slid into the cabinet, Roman sighed.

 “Thanks.” He whispered, finally pulling the plug and watching the water drain away.

 “You get stuck.” Virgil shrugged, offering the towel again.

 Roman took it from him with a tired, but grateful smile, “I do that a lot, don’t I?” he asked, scrubbing his hands dry with a little too much fervour.

 The royal didn’t even seem to notice, until Virgil gently put his hands on Roman’s, “Can you tell me what’s causing this?” he asked, taking the royal by the wrists and pulling his hands out so they both could see them.

 Roman grimaced at his red, raw hands, small bubbles starting to form on the thumb knuckles. “I just…it helps sometimes. Quiet the thoughts.”

 “Roman…” Virgil massaged the skin on the inside of his wrists, “That sounds a lot like OCD.”

 The prince grimaced, “It normally kinda…stops.” He shrugged, “After a while.” He sighed, “But I…need help this time.”

 Virgil’s eyebrows shot upward in surprise, eyes flashing with pride before a warm smile pulled onto his face. Roman looked uncertain, either completely unaware of what his admission meant, or worried about Virgil’s response.

 “Of course, Roman.” Virgil sounded breathless, proud and _happy_ , dropping Roman’s wrists to climb onto the counter behind him and gesturing Roman closer, “I’m so proud of you.”

 Roman stepped toward Virgil, the anxious Side wrapping his legs around Roman’s waist and arms around his neck, “For what?” he asked, hesitant even as he quickly wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist.

 “For _admitting_ it.” Virgil whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Roman’s temple, and felt the royal relax against him, “You’ve made so much progress, don’t forget that.”

 Roman sighed into Virgil’s shoulder, “I try to remind myself.” He whispered, burrowing his face further into Virgil’s hoodie, “But Christ, it feels so good to hear you _say_ it.”

 Virgil ran his fingers through Roman’s hair, surprised to find it soft and clean, “Did you shower today?”

 Roman nodded with a small sound, breathing in Virgil as a broad smile spread onto Virgil’s face.

 “Oh, Roman.” He pressed another kiss to Roman’s temple and another one on the tip of his ear, “I’m so _proud_.” He whispered in his ear.

 The first shudder of Roman’s shoulders was so small he nearly missed it, but Virgil smiled as he ran his fingers through Roman’s hair again.

 He _was_ immensely proud. And even if Roman cried now, it wouldn’t change that. Roman was clawing his way out the darkest pit of his life. He was allowed to cry.

 

* * *

 

 When it woke up, it was dark. The fairy lights appeared to have been turned off, casting the normally bright room in a deep darkness that even it wasn’t used to. Right now, it had no form, merely a presence that did nothing.

 It had nothing to feed off after all.

 But, it was finally strong enough to leave the confines of the Heart’s room. It had worked at this for _months_. Keeping small fragments of the angry memories, hiding them away, fuelling itself until it was finally able to _do_ this.

 It was floating in the centre of the room, turning its attention slowly toward the door that led toward it’s freedom. It had figured out a better target months ago, during that fight with the Anxious One. The form wasn’t exactly strong or fast, but it had felt it then. The unfamiliarity with emotions. The struggle to observe and catalogue and recognise.

 There certainly were easier targets in the mindscape. The Anxious one for instance would have been the easiest target, even as aware of it as he was. As capable of fighting it off, as he was. But anxious energy was so _easy_ to mould.

 Even the Creative One would have been an easier target. As uncertain, stagnant and tired as he was, it couldn’t bring itself to go after him. Not _yet_ anyway. Even weakened by Doubt, the Creative One was a force to be dealt with. It had felt it in that fight, the magic that forever danced under the skin, the strength in the muscles, the way it’s body seemed to move on muscle memory alone.

 It had even relished the sparks of fear in the Anxious One’s eyes when he took the form, giddy with joy as the Anxious One spent most of that part of the bout running and dodging. The only downside to the form was that it had felt…slow.

 But it didn’t want to go after the Creative One. _Yet_. There was still too much potential in the Logical One. The One most likely to run and hide when a troubling emotion came forward, to trap it somewhere in his room.

 The very idea of being bottled up somewhere was unpleasant. The Heart did it often enough. But if it meant it could grow and explode out, over and over again, causing as much pain and destruction as it could? From anyone _other_ than the Heart?

 Oh, it would happily wait in a bottle.

 It supposed, as it finally approached the door, that the greatest reason it didn’t want to remain here, was because it wanted to _hurt_ the Heart. It had managed to wound it many times, but it always managed to bounce back to before. Always just as strong, always just as willing to take it down. But here, the Heart was too strong. Too prepared for it.

 But if it were to go to the Others, well, the Heart wouldn’t be prepared at all.

 And that would have brought a wicked grin to it’s face, if it had been able to manifest one yet.

 How would it manifest in the Logical One’s room? It wondered, slowly willing the door to open. The thought slid to the back of it’s mind as the door seemed to rebel, almost vibrating against its influence.

 But then the knob slowly turned and it drifted open. The hall was clear, and a rush of cool air brushed over and through the dark form as it nearly shivered with anticipation.

 It was slow to move out into the hall, prepared for the tell-tale pull of the Heart’s room, expecting to see the glass walls shoot back up around it.

 But there was nothing. No sound, no rush of air, not even a creak. A light was shining from the commons, and even though curiosity tugged at it, the form had a goal in mind.

 And there, right next door, was the Logical One’s room. The Mind. At rest and dark.

 Another wicked grin would have broken out then. As always, the door was open. This would be so much easier than it had anticipated.


	2. Anticipation

** Anticipation **

 

 Despite the chaos that was his sleep schedule, Roman had made a point to make _something_ a part of a routine.

 Every morning, at five a.m. he made Logan a coffee.

 It wasn’t really a big act and Roman certainly had never called attention to it. At first, the little act had freaked Logan out.

 Roman remembered fondly, as he lay alone on the couch and stared at the ceiling, how Logan had risen up that morning (instead of walking), mug splashing in his hands. His hair was a rugged mess, eyes wide as they frantically searched for the Side who had made the coffee. At the time, Roman had been resting his eyes. No other Sides were awake.

 As far as Logan knew, the coffee had just appeared.

 Because of how illogical that was, Logan had tried to figure out who was making him his first cup of coffee every morning. He set alarms to try and catch them in the act. Which inevitably failed, because despite being the nerd of the group, he _was_ the heaviest sleeper.

 Then he tried using his _room_ to figure out who it was. Cameras and motion sensors and all kinds of hi-tech gear. Roman had found it amusing, a challenge to his morning. That he’d actually come to thoroughly enjoy for the time that it lasted.

 It had stirred his creativity. Finding new ways to stump the logical Side. His favourite morning was the one where he shape-shifted himself to be Logan’s exact height and frame (which was extremely disconcerting), then he’d put on Virgil’s hoodie, looping Patton’s over the shoulders and quietly shuffled in.

 Logan had never looked so mystified.

 It had been a harmless game for a while, but Roman had started to feel it was getting a little too far. He caught Logan awake long into the night one too many times, hiding schematics and schemes poorly as he floundered around excuses.

 So, Roman ‘let his guard down’.

 He’d been nervous about it that morning, if he recalled correctly. He’d been hiding this one act of kindness for almost a month, and now he was just going to…well, for a lack of a better word, _expose_ it. It was nice when it had been anonymous. But…

 Hadn’t that been what caused his slide in the first place? His random, quiet, anonymous acts of kindness that often went unnoticed and unappreciated?

 And it was that morning that it had fully dawned on Roman. Logan was so desperate to find out who was doing it, so he could say _thank you_. There was still guilt there, deep in Logan’s heart, niggling and constant and cold. Driving him to wackier, crazier schemes, just to say a simple _thank you_.

 It had made him smile then, and it made him smile now, staring at the ceiling. He could have just announced it to the room, and that would have been enough for Roman.

 The alternative _was_ , admittedly, much better.

 His phone softly chimed on his chest, pulling Roman from his thoughts and he slowly moved to pick up the rather large device. A notification, four thirty in the morning.

 Roman slowly sat himself up, taking the time to adjust to movement, before getting to his feet. Slowly, almost shuffling like Virgil, he moved into the kitchen and turned on the light. It burned his eyes a little, but he blinked it away as he turned on the kettle and prepared Logan’s favourite mug.

 Intricate galaxies and nebulas were painted on in varying shades of purples, pinks and blue. He’d found Logan distractedly staring at the patterns on more than one occasion, head on his arm, tracing his fingers idly over the painted surface. Those small, private moments, were part of the reason Roman had fallen head over heels for the nerd.

 The loud click of the kettle snapped Roman from his thoughts, and it wasn’t long until he found himself standing just outside Logan’s door.

 But it was _closed._

 A deep sense of dread and fear rose up his spine and settled into his chest, though Roman couldn’t actually be sure why. Sometimes Logan closed the door, and he rarely locked it, but it shouldn’t have caused this much distress. There was something…else…that Roman was dreading.

 Something he wasn’t sure he could name.

 Carefully, with much more care than he’d used in the past, he pushed the door open. The room was dark, but Roman could tell that it was as clean as it should have been. Every book in it’s place, his ties on their rack by the door, along with his shoes.

 The logical Side had even changed before bed, wearing a loose grey shirt and pants that were (ironically) too big for him.

 He should have felt relief then, to know that everything was as it should be. But the dread and fear couldn’t be shaken off that quickly. Even Logan’s snoring and sleep mumbles didn’t allay his fears.

 What was it about this room that had him on edge? It had never done this before. In fact, regardless of how Roman felt, stepping into Logan’s room was calming. It quieted thoughts, presented logical conclusions, cleared emotional turmoil. It was something Roman had once _loathed_.

 So where was this dread and fear coming from?

 Roman stepped in carefully, the mug warm in his hands as he approached Logan’s bed. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the sleeping Side, as though he would shoot up and attack or something _else_ would lunge at Logan.

 It was then that it occurred to Roman. He was feeling anticipation.

 Gently putting the mug on a coaster by Logan’s bed, Roman sat on the edge of the mattress. The logical Side had flung himself onto his back, an arm over his head, looking completely at peace.

 “Mmm…” Logan hummed in his sleep, “S’mores?” he mumbled, shifting slightly before relaxing again.

 Roman smirked, barely suppressing a chuckle as he reached out and stroked Logan’s cheek. He was warm, and his breathing hitched for a moment when Roman’s hand touched his cheek, but Logan hummed contentedly and leaned into the touch.

 So, it wasn’t a nightmare. Or even a slightly unpleasant dream.

 What was causing this…feeling? Why was there a _feeling_ here?

 “Pretty…” Logan whispered, turning his face toward Roman’s and smiling a little in his sleep. Roman felt his heart melt at the sight, “Wan’ one?” he murmured, eyelids fluttering a little.

 Roman chuckled softly, “I would love one.” He murmured back, watching Logan’s face pull into one of the brightest smiles he’d ever seen.

  _God_ , the depth of love he had for his nerd scared even himself.

 Logan turned himself onto his side, facing Roman, “Warm…” he sighed, uncurling a little from his blankets, “…chocolate…”

 Roman grinned down at him, gently brushing Logan’s hand with his own, “You make the best s’mores.” He whispered, watching that bright, proud smile beam back onto Logan’s face.

 “Fank you.” He whispered, burying his face in his pillows, probably to hide a blush.

 So, Logan was sleeping fine. S’mores or no, sleep talking or no, he was fine. That feeling remained in the room, but it wasn’t from Logan himself.

 Roman slowly stood up from the bed, turning toward Logan and pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. The logical Side giggled into his pillow, and warmth bloomed brightly in Roman’s chest.

 He loved these mornings. He loved these moments. And he loved his nerd.

 “See you in a little while.” He whispered, straightening and slowly shuffling toward the door. The feeling of anticipation got stronger the closer to the door Roman got, almost like it was excited he was leaving.

 For a moment, Roman considered staying until Logan’s first alarm, just to make sure his nerd was okay when he woke up. But that was a _huge_ deviation from routine. Too big for an awake Logan to handle, let alone a sleepy one.

 He paused at the door all the same, glancing back at Logan who had settled back into his dreams, lips slightly parted as he breathed slow and deep.

 Roman sighed, shaking his head fondly as he stepped out of Logan’s room and pulled the door almost closed.

 

* * *

 

 The feeling that something was wrong had remained while Roman showered, headed back downstairs and tried to drift into a nap on the couch. Even though he couldn’t settle into sleep, he allowed himself to rest, floating somewhere between consciousness and sleep until he heard soft footfalls bouncing down the stairs.

 He heard Patton approaching, and felt soft, warm fingers on his cheek. He didn’t speak, maybe sensing how close Roman was to actual sleep at last, and straightened. Something soft and heavy was laid over Roman, and Patton leant down to press a kiss to his temple, before bounding back into the kitchen.

 The weight of the blanket stopped Roman from floating, the drifting sensation finally coming to an end.

 It wasn’t until he woke up almost an hour later that he realised he’d fallen asleep. The weight of the blanket was soothing, and he was warm now, making it nigh impossible for Roman to even consider getting up.

 Virgil was halfway down the stairs when he saw Roman, his eyes flashing with something Roman guessed was pride, before he approached and knelt in front of him.

 “Comfortable there, Princey?” he asked softly, teasing almost, as he pulled a pillow under Roman’s head.

 “Mmhm.” He managed tiredly, already fighting a battle with his eyelids to keep them open.

 Virgil’s smile was relieved and warm, brushing hair from Roman’s forehead before he pressed kisses from his brow down his nose to his lips. Roman felt a sudden jolt of energy at the warmth, wanting more, _needing_ more from Virgil.

 He smirked when he pulled back, “Get some more rest.”

 Roman whined at him, trying to shift, wanting him to come back, but for the first time in three months, he couldn’t get his muscles to move. Was this what exhaustion felt like? No wonder Virgil was so irritable on bad days.

 The royal wasn’t sure how Virgil knew what he wanted, but he obliged, pressing another warm, slow kiss to Roman’s lips. The prince felt the sudden jolt, pressing back, wanting nothing more than to drink in all that Virgil was. But the anxious Side pulled away again with another smile.

 “We can always make-out later.” Virgil teased gently, “Sleep for now.”

 Roman wasn’t sure he could even fight the request. His eyelids were so heavy, his body weighted and secure for the first time in _forever_ , and sleep was _right there_.

 He drifted off again, though he wasn’t sure for how long. When he woke up this time, Logan was crouched before him, hand cupping Roman’s cheek. The logical Side was smiling gently at him, eyes bright and filled with warmth, before he pressed a kiss to the royal’s forehead.

 “Thank you.” He whispered, as he had every morning since Logan had ‘figured it out’, and pulled back to meet Roman’s eyes again. “Sweet dreams.”

 Roman was too tired to do much more than smile back, let his eyes drift closed and sink right back into sleep so deep, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever wake up again.


	3. Morning Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Heya guys! I'm so glad to see you all enjoying the sequel! XD  
> So, just an update on the sitch at home.  
> I work nights so I tend to sleep on American time (ironic considering I'm Australian), but at the moment I work the weekends. This means I won't be posting very often on Fridays through to Sundays. If I have the energy, I will, but I can't promise anything.  
>  Also, the things at home appear to be settling down with the Ex finally out of my house, so I have a lot more time and energy to dedicate to my fics. So! Hopefully more quality updates are on the way!
> 
> For anyone who has already started A Nightmare You Can't Wake From, please bear with me. It fits too well as a sequel to this, so I intend on completing that one, once I've finished up here.
> 
> I love all of your comments (they've gotten me through the last few rough patches I've had) so thank you for taking the time to post them. They mean so much to me <3

 

 Over the past few months, breakfast had become something of a ritual that they all clung to with varying degrees of desperation.

 Roman brewed Logan a coffee, took it to his room and collapsed back onto the couch to doze. Patton would be next to arrive, kiss Roman on the temple and see if he could soothe Roman’s insomnia some. Then he’d leave the royal to doze happily on the couch, bouncing his way into the kitchen.

 The fatherly Side’s soft humming would fill the commons, a sound that often sent Roman sinking into sleep and Patton would slowly flit around the kitchen.

 Depending on the morning, Virgil or Logan would appear first. Regardless of who appeared first, their routines remained the same. Virgil would stumble straight to the coffee machine. No longer having to wait for his mug of coffee had helped smooth some of his early morning prickliness.

 Virgil wasn’t always fond of touch first thing in the morning, so Patton had come to expect the anxious Side to slip up to his side and rest his head on Patton’s shoulder for a few moments. It never failed to make Patton smile, resting his own head on Virgil’s for a few silent moments.

 Then Virgil would slip out of the kitchen and sit at the table, dazedly staring into space as he sipped his coffee and slowly brought himself out of his own head.

 Before Roman’s change to his routine, Logan had been much the same. His morning edges were sharper though, causing more wounds than he’d intended, and taking far longer to process the consequences.

 Now, he’d softly pad out of his room, empty mug in hand, smiling tiredly out at the commons. Logan always thanked Roman with a soft kiss to the temple, their unspoken agreement, and Roman always smiled back.

 Then he’d head for his second mug of coffee. Far more aware than Virgil, Logan would hold some small talk with Patton, before heading out into the dining room.

 Typically, Virgil was more coherent and had realised Logan was amongst them. Having been together longer than the others, it was no surprise that Logan always leant down to press a warm, gentle kiss to Virgil’s lips, regardless of the night the anxious Side had.

 And it was no surprise that Virgil always tilted his head up for it.

 Until Patton finished with breakfast, Roman would doze, and the other two would softly discuss the schedule for the day as they slowly woke up.

 When he was done, Patton would go to wake Roman (which was no easy feat before) and the other two would silently get up to bring out the meal. They’d never discussed this, but Patton was always sure to thank them after. It wasn’t something he’d needed help with before, but he appreciated the effort they were making.

 This morning was a change though.

 Patton brought over the plates for Logan and Virgil, surprising both of the Sides out of their conversation, “Pat, you didn’t need to-“ Logan began, but Patton shook his head with a gentle smile.

 “Your idea about the weighted blanket was a good one, Lo.” He glanced over to the royal, three pairs of eyes drifting over to the couch.

 Roman was still lying on his stomach, one arm hanging from the couch, but he was softly snoring, lips parted and relaxed. More relaxed than the others had seen him in a _long_ time.

 Patton put his hand on Logan’s shoulder and squeezed, “There’s _no way_ he’s going to wake up.”

 Logan sighed, “I am grateful that it worked.” Patton slipped back into the kitchen and Virgil slowly turned back to face Logan, but the logical Side kept his eyes on Roman.

 “What is it, Lo?” Virgil asked, taking the syrup and pouring it over his pancakes.

 Logan sighed again, this time a small smile pulling onto his face, “I am… _happy_ that I could do something for him.” A soft sprinkling of pink rose on Logan’s cheeks as he quickly ducked his head and started preparing his own pancakes.

 Virgil popped a mouthful of pancakes into his mouth, smirking around the fork, but let the subject drop as Patton sat by Virgil, “How are they?”

 Virgil rolled his eyes, “Fantastic as always.” He gently nudged Patton in the ribs, and the emotional Side giggled quietly.

 Breakfast that morning was quiet, filled with soft whispers and murmurs, while the prince snored on the couch.

 The post-breakfast routine remained much the same, with Patton giving each of the Side’s a loud, popping kiss on the cheek and dashing upstairs giggling. Smothering their own smiles, Logan and Virgil would clean up as Patton showered, once more discussing schedule changes or something either of them had found interesting.

 Every morning without fail, Patton had softly padded back downstairs to find Logan finished with the washing, leaning against a counter and watching Virgil dry them with a burning in his eyes that made him smile. Every so often, Virgil would pass by, initiating some kind of contact before slipping away again and Patton would usually convince Roman to shower.

 With the prince out cold, he found he had a few moments to himself. So, he moved to Roman’s side, smoothing the royal’s hair out of his face and tucked the blanket close around him.

 For the first time in months, Roman made a tiny noise of content, rolling onto his side and sighing. Patton really couldn’t help the swell of love that nearly burst out in a squeal. He had to press a hand to his mouth as he beamed down at his royal, fingers tangling and dancing through Roman’s hair.

 Distracted as he was, Patton hadn’t noticed that Virgil had finished with the dishes, and Logan had broken away to have his own shower.

 For the first time in a while, Patton was alone with Virgil. And the anxious Side was quieter than he’d been in a long while.

 “You alright, hun?” Patton asked, approaching from behind the anxious Side.

 Virgil spun around too fast, eyes wide before he relaxed, “Um, yeah.” He averted his gaze for a moment and Patton tilted his head, “I mean…”

 Patton closed the distance between them, putting his hands gently on Virgil’s hips, “This okay?” Virgil nodded, letting his eyes drift closed as he took a deep breath, “Feeling anxious today, huh?”

 A perplexed frown pulled on Virgil’s face, “I don’t know.” He breathed, “Something feels…different. _Wrong_.” He hugged himself, even as Patton took a step closer.

 “Hmm?” Patton watched as Virgil opened his eyes and shyly looked up at him from behind his wild hair. He still managed to have hair over his eyes, “Is it just one of those vague feelings?”

 Virgil sighed, his arms tightening around his chest, “Not really. It’s…different. Like something has changed.” A corner of Patton’s lip twitched into a frown, “Are _you_ okay?”

 Patton blinked in surprise, his grip unconsciously tightening on Virgil’s hips, “Of course, Virge, why wouldn’t I be?”

 If there was something Patton would never get used to, it was the way Virgil searched him when he thought Patton was lying.

 His usually soft, shy, brown eyes became hard and almost sharp, alert and bright as it took in everything Patton tried to hide. Patton had seen Roman squirm under this gaze, the hawkish way Virgil studied them felt almost predatory. It ripped them open, exposed and vulnerable and raw.

 But this was _Virgil_ , not _Anxiety_ , and he’d changed.

 Slowly, Virgil would soften the look, closing them back up again, “Patton…” the tone was a soft, cautious warning, hands unfolding to fiddle with the sleeves of Patton’s hoodie, “Where’s Temper?”

 “Where it should be.” Patton whispered, sliding his hands up to pull Virgil closer. The anxious Side let him, but his perplexed, worried expression never changed. Even as Patton wrapped an arm around him, a hand in his hair, trying to soothe whatever demon was haunting Virgil that day.

 But that same demon was haunting Patton, and he was desperate, _oh_ so desperate, to ignore it.

 “You’d…tell me…if something changed?” Virgil whispered into Patton’s shoulder, still too tense, too uncertain.

 Patton drew in a deep breath. He would tell him. Not now. But soon. Not this morning. Not when things were finally, _finally_ , calming down.

 “Of course, hun.” He whispered, feeling Virgil’s arms slowly encircle his waist and pull him closer.

 “Okay.” Virgil buried his face in Patton’s shoulder, taking slow, deliberate breaths and trying to relax his shoulders.

 Guilt immediately stabbed Patton through the heart as Virgil curled up against him, trying so hard to calm what he thought was irrational fear.

 Lying was wrong. Patton had said that often enough to the others. And it hurt to lie to Virgil, especially when he showed so much _trust_ in Patton in these tiny moments of vulnerability.

 And it hurt to know that Virgil thought he was being irrational because of Patton’s lie.

 But Temper was a dangerous force.

 He wasn’t going to get Virgil involved again if he could avoid it. His shadowling carried more than enough of his fair share of the burden. Patton had to deal with this.

 If he could find it.


	4. Agony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a few warnings: Shortness of Breath/Difficulty Breathing (I can't really think of any others, but if I need to add any, please let me know and I'll fix it up right away)
> 
>  
> 
> ((I'M SORRY)))

 

 Everything had seemed normal.

 Barring the strange sensation of ‘ _off_ ’ that he couldn’t shake, Logan had to admit that everything felt fine. And it wasn’t like him to have vague, irrational feelings of unease anyway.

 Washing his hair, he couldn’t help but walk through the morning in his head. As usual, Patton smiled while he made breakfast, humming. He’d even given him a playful wink before Logan went over Virgil.

 If anything was bothering Patton, he was doing a good job of hiding it again.

 Virgil had seemed more tense than usual, sure, but Logan couldn’t completely discount that it was somewhat normal. He was grateful that Virgil had discussed the odd feelings with him as they did the dishes, going through his usual acts to calm or rationalise, but it didn’t seem to help.

 And that was entirely unsettling for Logan.

 There was a reason for this, Logan knew that. But he couldn’t figure out what it was for the life of him. And that, in and of itself, was disturbing.

 He rinsed his hair, sighing as the hot water soothed his sore muscles. Hmm. Maybe he’d go for a walk with Roman today. A wander through the Imagination might help boost his spirits. And help settle this uncomfortable feeling in his chest.

 Logan was quick once he was out of the shower, dried and dressed and ready for the day. Of the four Sides, he always took the shortest showers, even when he was too fatigued to function.

 He stole a glance under the blanket, quickly checking his hair and tie, before letting it fall back over the mirror. Then he was wandering back through the mindscape, heading down to the commons.

 But he froze halfway down the stairs.

 It wasn’t unusual for Virgil to curl up in Patton’s arms on days where he wasn’t feeling very well. What was unusual was the sensation he was feeling.

 That sharp, hot stab in his chest that he’d never felt before.

 Was he dying? He didn’t realise he’d gasped aloud until two pairs of eyes were on him, his hand flying reflexively to his chest. Was he breathing?

 No. No, he wasn’t.

 It _hurt_. Whatever this was, it _hurt_ and he wasn’t sure _why_ because he didn’t even know what it _was_.

 “Logan?!” Patton was on the step beneath him, hands on his biceps, trying to stabilise the logical Side as he gasped in a ragged breath, “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

 Bitter tears flooded Logan’s eyes, his lip curling with disdain, even as panic rose through him, “I don’t know,” he squeaked, blinded by his tears as the stabbing pain grew hotter and more intense, “What-“

 The image flashed back in his mind, followed by others that had never elicited this response before. Virgil curled up beside Roman on the couch watching television, Patton cradling Virgil through a panic attack, Virgil laughing at a joke from someone else.

 That sharp, stabbing pain grew so hot he cried out, still pressing his hand to his chest, knees growing weak and shaky. Patton tried to catch him, hoping to support the logical Side, but Logan was barely breathing through the pain.

 Familiar arms wrapped around Logan’s waist, holding him almost upright, a familiar chest pressed against his back, “Easy, sweetie,” Virgil’s surprisingly calm, gravelly voice cooed and Logan was finally able to take a breath. He nearly threw himself back against Virgil, head thrown back onto Virgil’s shoulder, coughing weakly as he raggedly gasped for a breath of air, “I have you.”

 “Virge…” all Logan could manage were raspy breaths through the pain, pressing his hand harder and harder into his chest, “Oh god, it _hurts_.”

 Virgil frowned, trying to pull Logan closer and feeling him push back, trying to _get_ closer. “Keep trying to breathe, I have you.” He met Patton’s eyes, “Let’s try and get him on the couch.”

 Patton nodded, moving slowly down the stairs with them and keeping a close eye on them. He wasn’t about to let them fall down the stairs.

 Once on the floor, Virgil pulled Logan up off his feet, quickly moving him to the couch and sitting him on his lap, “Does he have a fever?”

 Patton put his hand on Logan’s forehead, but the logical Side yelped at the touch, twisting his head away and burrowing against Virgil’s neck.

 Even though it stung, Virgil and Patton shared confused and terrified stares.

 What…what was _that_?

 “He doesn’t feel warm.” Virgil offered, “Um, maybe some water?”

 Patton nodded, rushing off to the kitchen while Virgil leant back with Logan keeping the logical Side’s back to his chest.

 “Logan? Lo?” Virgil heard a strangled whine in response, “Can you tell me what you feel?”

 Virgil could feel his lips moving, trying to form words, but nothing was coming out. Or he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to say.

 Patton returned a moment later, offering a glass of water, “Lo?” Patton knelt down in front of them, trying to see the Logan’s face, “Can you look at me?”

 Slowly, hesitant, Logan managed to turn his head, breathing laboured and raspy, opening his eyes. He could only squint at Patton through his glasses, tears rolling unbidden down his cheeks, “What’s…happening…to me…?” he whimpered, choking on a sob and trembling violently on Virgil’s lap, “I…I don’t…”

 “Shh,” Virgil offered the water, watching Logan’s other hand weakly reach for the glass. Logan drank greedily, hand on the glass but barely strong enough to hold it, Virgil helping keep it in place. “We’ve got you, okay?” Logan panted as Virgil held out the glass to Patton, “We’ve got you.”

 Logan felt shaky and weak, but this was no fever he’d ever experienced before. Thomas had gotten sick plenty of times for Logan to understand what a fever felt like. This was entirely different.

 The water helped soothe his throat, regulated his breathing for a moment, and he looked down to Patton, who was nervously studying Logan’s face.

 More flashes, more memories that had never hurt him in the past. Patton brushing him off to help Virgil through an attack, Roman and Patton giggling as they made cookies and dusted each other in flour, Virgil playfully throwing a DVD case at Roman as he laughed and ducked.

 He howled as the pain returned, heat spreading from his heart across his lungs and down to his stomach. He threw his head back as his back arched away from Virgil, the anxious Side desperately holding on to keep him from falling to the floor.

 Logan could hear someone talking frantically, afraid and confused. Roman. It had to be Roman.

 He wanted the pain to stop. God, he _needed_ it to stop. Whatever this was, it was too much. Too hot and too sudden and too intense. He couldn’t do it.

 Virgil’s soft, soothing voice returned in his ear, “Lo? Can you hear me, baby?”

 All he could do was nod, flinching as waves of heat rushed over him.

 “Alright, I’m gonna lie us down, okay?” Logan nodded again, feeling the world move as Virgil sank down, lying on his back with his head on the armrest, “Can you roll over for me, sweetie?”

 Logan groaned, afraid to even try, before another pair of arms was lifting him away from Virgil. Something feral and desperate and scared awoke inside him. It was screaming for something, so loud Logan could barely hear it, so piercingly loud he screamed and clapped his hands over his ears.

 Then he was laying down again, a cool hand on his back, another on his hip, massaging and slow and gentle and tender and-

 Virgil.

 Then the screaming made sense as his thundering heartbeat continued in his ears.

  _Virgil Virgil Virgil_

 He was sobbing, great heaving sobs of pain and terror, shaking violently against Virgil. He was terrified out of his mind, hurting so deeply he didn’t know what to do, and all he wanted-

 All he wanted was Virgil.

 Finally, the latest wave of pain washed away and he collapsed weakly against Virgil, hand twitching on Virgil’s chest as he heaved and wheezed. He had to be dying. This had to be what dying felt like. There was no way this was normal.

 “I’m here, I’m here,” Logan realised he was whimpering Virgil’s name, “Shh, I’m here,” Virgil’s hand was circling over his back, but Logan could feel him shaking, “Easy now.”

 Logan whimpered, “What’s…wha-what’s ha-happening to…to m-me?”

 “I…I don’t know, Lo.” His voice was thick and worried, “But…But I’m here.” He took a deep, slow breath to try and calm himself down, “I’m here.”

 Logan buried his face in Virgil’s chest, ignoring the way his glasses dug into his nose, “I’m scared…” he whimpered, hand turning to cling to Virgil’s shirt.

 Virgil curled a little around Logan, pulling him as tightly against him as he could, “I know, baby, I know.” He was desperately trying to fight his own tears, “But we’ll figure it out, together, okay?” Logan nodded, “Everything will be okay.”

 The sharp pain had eased somewhat, making it only marginally easier to breathe, even as the burning remained, “I love you.” It was all Logan could think to say, it was all he wanted to say. It was the only thought that continued to invade his every moment, even as he tried to figure out what was happening.

 Virgil slipped a hand up Logan’s shirt, his hand resting on Logan’s hip. The logical Side’s breath hitched, but the coolness of Virgil’s touch eased some of the pain, “I love you too.” He whispered back, pressing kisses into Logan’ hair, “So _fucking_ much.”

 The pain continued to ease as Virgil traced small patterns on Logan’s hip, breathing into his hair, circling over his back. But now he was so…so _tired_. Whatever that was, whatever had come over him had drained him of everything ounce of energy he had.

 “Tired now, Lo?” Virgil whispered into his hair, shifting a little when Logan nodded with a tired him, “Let me get your glasses, nerd.”

 Logan was barely able to turn his head, but he felt Virgil pull his glasses free and he sighed as Virgil also reached down and loosened his tie.

 “Get some rest, baby. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

 Logan nodded, too tired to really consider any other options.

 Virgil watched Logan’s eyes finally drift closed, biting his lip as Logan’s breathing finally evened out and tears flooded Virgil’s eyes. He let his head fall back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

 Roman was sitting on the arm rest, and he reached out to brush at Virgil’s bangs. He looked worried, eyes flicking quickly between Logan and Virgil, “Do you need anything, Virge?” he whispered.

 His throat closed, and he desperately tried to hold back his tears, but he pressed his head into Roman’s hand. The royal turned toward him, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

 “I’m here.” He whispered, shifting the pair so he could rest Virgil’s head in his lap, “I’ve got you.”

 He desperately tried to hold back his tears, too afraid he would wake Logan, but he couldn’t keep them all at bay. Roman brushed them away as they slipped free, “He was in so much pain, Ro.”

 Roman nodded as he looked down at Virgil, his eyes no longer leaving the anxious Side’s face. “I heard, darling.” He took a deep breath, “Right now, I’d like you to try and focus, okay? Can you do that?”

 Virgil frowned up at him, “Ro, you shouldn’t be-“

 “Stop worrying about everyone else for a second, okay?” Virgil closed his eyes, a few more tears slipping free, “What can you hear?”

 After a few moments of the exercise, Virgil was able to breathe evenly again, the tears had stopped and he looked up to Roman, eyes clear.

 “Thank you.”

 Roman smiled back, “Anytime, Virge.”

 His eyebrows knit together, tilting his head to look back down at Logan, “Ro…”

 “Hmm?”

 “Did…anything feel, I dunno, _weird_ …this morning?”

 Roman frowned, “You felt it too?”

 Virgil’s head fell back, eyes wide as they met Roman’s, “Too?”

 “When I went to Lo-“ his eyes widened, “I’ll be right back.”


	5. The Prince Who Got Too Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Man, this is going to hurt. This whole fic is gonna hurt. <3
> 
> Warnings: Difficulty Breathing, Strangulation, Swearing

 

 Roman paced his room, too entranced with his thoughts to notice the state his room was in. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts before he broached the issue, but it was proving harder than he’d thought.

 His mind kept flicking back to the agonised screams from Logan, his terrified sobbing, even his pitiful whimpering and begging for Virgil. And it didn’t help the Virgil himself had been terrified.

 The moment Logan had screamed, the poor Side was reaching for him again, eyes so full of terror that Roman had felt his heart break at the sight.

 But something sinister was at work here. And even though he knew somewhere deep down that it absolutely _had_ to be affecting Thomas, he didn’t have the courage to go and ask him yet.

 As he paced, Roman’s eye caught on his jacket, still crumpled and abandoned on the floor. How long had it been since he’d worn it? He’d recycled his black long-sleeved shirts for so long, he’d almost forgotten about his usual trademark look.

 In the dim light of the fairy-lights blinking above, it looked sad and forlorn. He stepped toward it, picking it up off the floor and shaking it out once. Remarkably, there were no creases or even stains, which surprised the royal.

 In his hands now it felt…right. Like he wanted… _needed_ to put it back on. He walked to his light switch and flicked it on, smiling when they came on for him.

 Maybe things were getting better for him after all.

 The room itself had changed minutely, but the feeling his jacket elicited in him wasn’t the one he’d feared. There was no shame or disgust or even…loathing.

 So, he slipped his arms into the sleeves and adjusted it. He didn’t do it up, he wasn’t quite ready for that it seemed, but it felt nice to have it back over his shoulders and arms.

 Hmm.

 Now, what was he going to do about this situation?

 Logan’s room had caused him an odd feeling that morning. He had been fatigued, but that obviously hadn’t been the problem. Logan himself had seemed fine, according to the others, until he came back down from his shower.

 Roman frowned as he paused his pacing. Logan had been clutching as his chest, hadn’t he? He couldn’t describe the pain exactly, but Roman did recall him trying to curl up.

 Absently, he rubbed at his own chest, right above his heart. It was normal for Roman to feel emotions, even if they were specifically romantically related. It was normal for him to experience jealousy and love and pride.

 Just as it was normal for Virgil to experience dread, anxiety, fear and fright. Or Patton to feel the entire range, really; anger, sadness, happiness.

 But Logan had almost _never_ experienced emotion. And what he did experience took time for him to figure out. Strong emotions, like frustration, had a debilitating effect on him in the past.

 And then there was his reaction to Patton touching him.

 Roman approached his door, back straighter than it had been in months, feeling far more confident than he had in a long while. He was still wearing an old pair of torn jeans, but that didn’t even seem to matter.

 He had to help Logan. Helping Logan would help Virgil.

 He couldn’t let them hurt anymore.

 Roman paused outside of Logan’s door, feeling that same twisting anticipation, but there was something else there now. Almost wicked glee, along with a deep jealousy. A jealousy that burned and stabbed and spread.

 His frown turned into a scowl as Roman reached up and pushed the door open, remaining in the doorway. The room was dark, as it often was when Logan was asleep this deeply, but it all seemed to be in order.

 His shoes were by the door, one tie missing, bed made. His desk was maybe a little disorganised, but Logan had been sorting out thoughts. That wasn’t at all unusual.

 It was the influence that bothered Roman.

 Maybe it was the jacket, or maybe it was the actual sleep he’d managed to get that morning, but he didn’t realise he was stepping into the room until he’d flicked the light on.

 The way the shadows retreated was an immediate warning bell for Roman. The prince expected it from Virgil’s room, not Logan’s.

 Even though the shadows retreated like black tendrils, the room was silent. All Roman could hear was his own breathing, deep and slow, and the soft whirring of Logan’s laptop on the desk.

 He looked around slowly, looking for something out of place or extra that shouldn’t have been there. Anything that would explain that influence he was feeling. _Anything_ to give Roman an idea of what to do.

 As he turned toward the closet, a thought occurred to him.

 Unlike Roman, Logan kept the door to his part of the subconscious at the back of his closet. He’d reasoned in their last conversation about it, that Logan didn’t want a constant reminder that he could enter that place.

 Roman knew it was a painful reminder of the day Instinct became Anxiety.

 Of all the Sides, Logan had been the only one to chase Instinct that day, but he had taken so long to return that Roman had almost gone after him. They’d all changed that day.

 Roman drew a deep breath in and exhaled it quickly.

 He felt the room shift to apprehension, swirling with near desperation as Roman’s eyes narrowed on the closed closet door. Logan’s emotions weren’t tied to his room, not like this, and besides…Logan was _asleep_.

 Roman took a step toward the closet.

 The air in the room almost felt thicker, colder, whatever calm had been here was long gone. He could hear Virgil softly talking downstairs, but Roman tried to keep his focus on the closet.

 The prince quickly drew a breath, took a step and threw the closet door open.

 Nothing out of the ordinary immediately jumped out at Roman. Other than Logan’s nearly identical outfits that went on for…gosh, did he have thirty of the same polo? Roman let his lips curl into a smirk, feeling the apprehension in the air lessen and Virgil’s voice softened further.

 It was hardly a surprise that he had so many of the same shirt. Or pants. He did have some nicer clothes, admittedly, and Roman couldn’t help but lick his lips as he imagined Logan wearing them, but he gently separated the shirts to peer at the deep blue door behind them.

 It didn’t appear to have been opened. No claw marks from a creature, no burns, nothing unusual.

 That raised more questions than answers.

 For a reason Roman still didn’t really understand, he reached out and brushed his fingers over the door. It was _warmer_ than he recalled, and he frowned as he looked down at his fingertips.

 Roman’s door was warm. Logan’s _should_ have been lukewarm. Virgil’s had been cold, from what Roman could recall.

 Drawing another deep breath, Roman reached out and touched the door again. The wood itself seemed to move and he went to take a step back with a yelp, and a blue tendril shot out of the closet toward him.

 Rusty from his time outside the Imagination, Roman didn’t get out of the way in time, the thick tendril wrapping tightly around his waist. The door to the bedroom slammed shut and he felt the air disappear from beneath his feet.

 “ _Fuck!_ ” he kicked wildly, grabbing at the strange not-quite-solid holding him to try and get it to loosen, but he was pulled into the closet and he put his arms out to push against the blue door.

 Or whatever the hell it was.

 Roman heard footfalls outside the bedroom door, “Roman?”

 Patton. Shit. Patton could help. Maybe.

 He opened his mouth to call for the father figure to open the door, but a tendril wrapped tightly around his throat, cutting off his air as the door seemed to move and warp.

 It was swallowing him. Oh god. He was going to die. He couldn’t get away, he couldn’t get help, and he was going to die.

 He kept fighting, but his legs were already useless to him, and his hands kept sinking in. Without air, his lungs were starting to burn, blood thundering in his ears as he tried to pull away.

 “Are you okay in there Roman?”

  _Patton open the fucking door!_ Roman felt his body shutting down, oxygen starved and scared, he whimpered, _Please help me, for gods sake._

 All Roman saw before the deep inky darkness was that shade of blue a touch too bright for Logan.

 

* * *

 

 Patton nibbled on his lip just outside Logan’s door, nervously shifting from foot to foot outside. He thought he’d heard Roman cry out. But…maybe it was his imagination?

 The door suddenly opened, and Roman beamed down at him, eyes shining brightly, “Yes, Patton?”

 There was an odd…bitterness in the way Roman said his name, but Patton chose to ignore it, “Are you okay? I heard the door slam and you…you _swore_.”

 Roman blinked down at him, his grin spreading wider, “Oh, I knocked some notes over.”

 “The door?”

 Roman laughed nervously, “I knocked it closed when I tripped. That’s how I knocked his notes over.”

 Patton frowned, “Mmm, okay.” Something like irritation flashed over Roman’s face, “What are you doing in there anyway?”

 Roman sighed, “I was seeing if there was a way to help Logan here.” He opened the door wider, stepping around Patton, “But there’s nothing.”

 Patton frowned, watching Roman slide down the banister to the commons and he stepped into Logan’s room. That odd twisting feeling Patton had ignored that morning was gone, the calm having returned to the room, but…

 But something had changed.

 And _it_ was still missing.

 He took a careful, slow look around the room. There _were_ notes on the floor, and it wasn’t like Roman to just leave them there. Logan’s shoes were still by the door, his ties all on their racks, closet door closed, bed made and desk a slightly cluttered mess. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and Patton sighed.

 Maybe he was imagining things after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I might be able to pump out one more update today if you guys would like? I'm really on a roll with this one today but I dont wanna overwhelm you.  
>  If not today, I'll upload tomorrow <3


	6. Unusual Behaviour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A little Swearing in this one, but not much.  
>  I hope you guys don't mind things getting a little complicated!
> 
> Feel free to leave theories in your comments if you want, I love seeing them so much! XD

 Virgil opened his eyes a few hours later, yawning and arching his back slightly, fingers still tangled in Logan’s hair. He shifted slightly, lifting his head to look down at the logical Side, finding him awake and staring out into the commons, biting one of his blunt nails.

 “Hey,” Virgil groggily murmured, gently scratching Logan’s scalp. The other Side hummed softly, his eyelids fluttering before he tilted his head to look up at Virgil. The familiar squint brought a small smile to Virgil’s face, “How are you doing?”

 Logan sighed softly, eyebrows drawn together, “I’m feeling better now.” He admitted in a whisper, “What happened?”

 Virgil shifted, pulling them up so Virgil could rest his head against the arm rest. Logan remained a warm, pliant weight against him, “I was hoping you could tell me.” Logan’s eyes darkened, “You were in a lot of pain.”

 His concern must have shown on his face, because Logan looked a little guilty and apologetic, “I’m sorry…”

 “Don’t be sorry,” tears brimmed in Logan’s eyes, “Sweetie…”

 He hid his face in Virgil’s chest, barely muffling a tiny sound of distress, “I don’t understand.” He whimpered, clinging to Virgil’s shirt again, shoulders shaking, “It hurt so bad.”

 Virgil gently pulled him higher, hand cupping the back of his head as he let Logan bury his face in Virgil’s neck, “Do you know what caused it?” he whispered, wrapping his other arm around Logan’s shoulders.

 He sniffed, “It seems foolish.”

 Virgil rolled his eyes, “Lo…”

 A tiny laugh escaped Logan, “Okay.” he sighed, “Okay…” he nuzzled closer, “I saw Patton holding you…like he has a thousand times before.” Virgil frowned as he looked up at the ceiling, “And I remembered other times…times that never had an affect before and the pain got worse.” He was whispering, getting faster as he spoke, “I know it was foolish and irrational, but it wouldn’t stop and it made no sense.” Virgil tried to calm him by toying with locks of Logan’s hair, “And all I wanted was you…god, all I could think about was _you_.”

 Virgil hummed quietly, “And you’re not feeling that way now?”

 Logan shook his head, “I was…pondering that after I woke up.” He whispered, “I believe I have a theory.”

 “Yeah?”

 Virgil was almost certain what Logan had experienced, but what concerned him was exactly _why_ or _how_ he had even felt it.

 “I believe it was…’jealousy’.” Logan whispered, “I don’t understand why, but it’s the only emotion I can think of that would have been triggered by a sight like that.”

 Virgil nodded, “And you’ve never felt it before?”

 Logan shook his head, “No. Perhaps that’s why it hurt so much?”

 Virgil nodded and ran his fingers through Logan’s hair, letting his nails scratch down to the nape of his neck and felt Logan shiver against the touch.

 Logan suddenly moved, holding himself up over Virgil and trying to study Virgil’s face. The anxious Side waved his hand, Logan’s glasses moving into his hand and he gently slid them onto the logical Side’s face.

 He looked like a mess. He was pale and drawn, cheeks raw and red, his hair a mess and sticking up in every direction. His deep brown eyes were full of guilt and fear, and Virgil couldn’t help the worm of worry that slid up into his heart.

 “Hey,” he whispered, cupping Logan’s cheek gently. He leant into the touch with a hum, “Talk to me.”

 Logan took a deep breath, “Feeling that…it scared me, Virge.” His voice cracked and Virgil frowned up at his nerd, gently stroking his cheekbone, “I don’t want to…I don’t want to feel it again…” his lip trembled, a tear sliding down his cheek, “I…I can’t _lose_ you…”

 “Oh, Logan…” Virgil whispered, shifting his hand so his long fingers were tangling in his hair, his thumb still stroking his cheek, “You won’t lose me.”

 “That’s- I-“ he made a noise in his throat, hands clenching into fists by Virgil’s sides, “You don’t- I mean-“

 Virgil had never expected Logan to be the kind for spontaneous expressions of affection, but then again, he’d also never expected Logan to get jealous.

 So, when Logan lunged, pressing their lips together with heat and desperation, Virgil was so surprised he made a squeaking noise and tensed beneath him.

 He pulled away again, eyes dancing between Virgil’s searching for something, his eyes shining with yearning and fear.

 Virgil took a deep breath, “Lo…” he breathed, eyes wide, “You don’t have to-“

 “I _want_ to, Virge.” Slid himself up a little, straddling Virgil’s waist, “I love you so _much_.” He cupped Virgil’s cheeks and the anxious Side felt himself flush as he stared up at Logan.

 The heat in Logan’s eyes was so foreign to Virgil he didn’t know what to say, “Logan, you know that I love you too.” Logan’s brows tilted upward, almost afraid of what Virgil would say, “But you don’t have to rush this.” The logical Side started to shake, “You know that, right?”

 “I do,” he whispered, “You’re too good to me.”

 Virgil smirked, “That’s my line.” He teased.

 This time when Logan pressed his lips to Virgil’s, the anxious Side was ready for it, tilting up to meet him. The logical Side hummed softly into Virgil’s mouth, searching and heated and desperate.

 Virgil couldn’t help but meet him, hands resting on his hips, feeling Logan’s tongue dance gently against his lips, and for the first time, he opened up for him.

 Logan groaned softly, exploring and Virgil couldn’t help but meet him, fingers sliding up Logan’s shirt and gently dancing over Logan’s skin.

 The heat and desperation in Logan’s kiss was intoxicating, filled with so much more emotion than Logan usually allowed himself to show that Virgil wasn’t sure that he was prepared to handle it all.

 One of his hands travelled to Virgil’s neck, then down his chest, sliding over Virgil’s shirt and then back up again, burying in his hair.

 Logan gently tangled his fingers into his hair, tugging Virgil’s head back gently and breaking the kiss to pepper gentle kisses over Virgil’s neck.

 He was already so out of breath that Virgil wasn’t even able to whimper as little shocks of electricity rocked over his skin, his eyelids fluttering with each gentle peck against his sensitive skin.

 “Lo…” he finally managed to breathe out, and Logan trailed kisses up to the spot just under his earlobe.

 “Yeah…” he breathed back.

 “Just _ask_ next time, okay?” he smiled, feeling Logan press kisses back to Virgil’s lips. This time Virgil stole his mouth, a hand travelling up to Logan’s ribs and then back down to his hips and feeling him shiver under Virgil’s touch.

 Virgil took the lead this time. There was less desperation, less hunger, and instead gentle reassurances and deeply burning passion. Virgil could feel Logan relaxing slowly under his fingers, slowing his movements to match Virgil’s, listening to the gentle messages Virgil was sending him the way Logan needed to hear them.

  _I’m not going anywhere. No need to rush. I love you_.

 When Logan had finally relaxed, their movements deep but slow and gentle, Virgil pulled away just enough to breathe and talk, “You okay?” he whispered between deep pants, opening his eyes to meet Logan’s.

 “Yeah.” He breathed back, “Yeah, I…sorry…I just…”

 “Shh,” Virgil pressed their lips together again, feeling Logan sigh, before breaking apart, “If we’re ready, it’s okay.”

 A hint of a smile pulled at Logan’s face, and Virgil sighed at the sight. “Thank you.”

 Virgil smirked, “Hey, we don’t have to stop yet.” He teased, meeting Logan’s surprised, wide eyes, “If you don’t want to.” He added with a wink.

 Logan’s smile widened a little, before they were meeting again, warm and happy as Virgil turned to lay Logan on his back. The logical Side mused at how he managed it without breaking contact, and let his hands travel down to Virgil’s chest.

 “My turn,” Virgil teased, peppering kisses down Logan’s jawline and felt the logical Side whimper and arch beneath him as he traced down his neck, “Good?”

 Logan writhed a little beneath him, eyes squeezed closed, legs spreading around Virgil’s hips, “Mmm, yeah…” he breathed, “I didn’t…know…” Virgil grazed his teeth over the skin, “Ah!” he arched again, “Shit…” he whispered and Virgil chuckled into his throat.

 “God, I love you.” He felt Logan’s hands running down to his hips and slipping up the back of his shirt, “So _much_.”

 Logan chuckled back, “Then get back up here.”

 Laughing, Virgil obliged, once more locking lips with happiness and warmth. They shared messages of care and love, fingers tracing patterns and humming soft noises of content.

 When they finally broke apart, breathless and warm, they locked eyes, smiling at each other. Virgil had seen warmth in those deep brown eyes before, but he’d never seen heat like this before. Such passionate, strong love that Logan didn’t know what to do with it all.

 “We should do this more often.” Virgil teased and Logan beamed up at him, a sight so stunning and bright and rare that Virgil ran out of words to say.

 “Definitely.” Logan whispered, “But maybe not in the commons.”

 Virgil laughed softly, “True…” he sighed contentedly, “You hungry or thirsty?”

 Despite his flush, Logan _still_ managed to blush, “Um, yeah.”

 Virgil gently pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek, “C’mon then.” He climbed off him, helping him to his feet and walking with Logan to the kitchen, hand-in-hand.

 “How long were we out?” Logan asked, trying to straighten his shirt with one hand.

 “Hmm, before the make-out?” Logan blushed brightly again as Virgil opened the fridge. He let Logan drift over to the sink for some water, “Maybe about three hours? Patton made lunch, want the leftovers?”

 Logan smiled with a sigh, “Of course.”

 Virgil pulled out a small plastic container and set it on the counter just as Logan ran a hand through his hair. Virgil froze when he saw the red spot on his forehead, dropping the container and rushing back to Logan.

 Pinning the Side to the bench with a yelp, Virgil reached up carefully, pulling the hair aside and Logan stared at him, hands bracing against the counter, “Virge?” he squeaked, eyes wide as Virgil studied the red mark on Logan’s forehead.

 “Logan…does it hurt?” he asked, his thumb brushing over the red mark.

 “Does what hurt?”

 Virgil leant back to meet Logan’s eyes, searching and probing. Logan didn’t squirm so much under Virgil’s more intense stare, simply searching back in the owlish way he usually did, until Virgil broke the stare-off with a sigh.

 “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He pulled back, letting Logan’s hair fall back in place, “It just looked like a burn, that’s all.”

 As Virgil moved back to the container of leftovers, Logan lifted his fingers to brush over the same spot Virgil had. This time, a spark of pain shot through him and he hissed.

 “It is a burn.”

 Virgil was staring at him, frozen and wide-eyed, a look of both concern and fear falling over his face as Logan met his eyes.

 “What-“

 “I just touched it and you didn’t so much as flinch.” Virgil answered, hands tightening around the container until his knuckles went white, “And that’s…that’s where _Patton_ touched you before…”

 Logan’s hand dropped as a sharp, acidic feeling rose in his throat. His face twisted with disdain and distaste, turning to spit out the acid into the sink. Virgil was still staring, wide-eyed, as Logan stared down at the sink.

 He suddenly felt sick, his stomach flipping violently and he nearly pulled his lips back into a snarl as strange, unexplainable rage bubbled inside him.

 “I’m sorry, Virgil.” He whispered, “I don’t…” he put his hand to his stomach, “I don’t feel hungry anymore.”

 Virgil tried to protest, but Logan was already fleeing to his room and he stood silent and confused, alone in the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 The door to the logical Side’s room closed loudly, and Roman grinned as he quickly slipped out of his own room, striding to the stairs and sliding down the banister. Virgil was quietly munching on the lunch Patton had made, thoughtfully looking out into the commons.

 Virgil caught his movement in the corner of his eye and he straightened from his elbows, “Heya, Princey.” The warm brown eyes danced over him, “You got your jacket on.” A proud smile spread onto his face, “Having a good day now?”

 Roman considered the events of the morning as he measured his response, “I suppose I’m feeling a little more confident with the jacket on.” He paused to take Virgil’s hand and brushed his lips over his knuckles, eyes locked on Virgil’s. The anxious Side slowly turned bright red, eyes wide in surprise, “However, I can say I am feeling a little better.”

 Roman let Virgil’s hand drop, smiling widely as he stepped past the flustered Side to the sink for some water. He glanced over his shoulder, watching Virgil as he pressed his hands to his cheeks and curled up a little.

 “A little?” Virgil finally managed, sounding a little out of breath as he turned to Roman, “Seems like you’re feeling a lot better.”

 Roman had almost expected a bright, proud smile but there was something almost hawkish about his expression, something that was searching too deeply and knew too much.

 He was quick to break eye contact, putting down the glass of water and stepping toward Virgil, “Roman-?!” he squeaked as Roman wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him up off his feet, sitting him on the counter and standing between his thighs, “What are you doing?!”

 Roman paused for a moment, putting his hands on the countertop beside Virgil’s thighs, “Is it bad that I would like to spend time with you?”

 A strange look of shock passed over Virgil’s face, “Something’s wrong with Logan and you’re worried about that?”

 Roman blinked at him, before a coy smile pulled onto his face, “We’ll figure out what’s wrong with Logan.” He reassured Virgil, hands moving to Virgil’s thighs and gently sliding up to his hips, “And _Patton_. In time.”

 Virgil leant back, “Why did you say it like that?”

 “What?”

 “Patton. Why did you say his name like that?”

 Roman slid Virgil closer, feeling his hands press against his chest in a small attempt to create distance, “Like what?”

 Virgil frowned at him, “You’re acting weird, Roman.”

 A small sting of pain told Roman he’d gone too far and he pulled back, “My apologies.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I suppose I’m not quite myself yet.”

 “Yet?” Virgil asked, sliding back to create some more distance.

 Hmm.

 “Maybe I should take a nap, hm? I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

 “Yes…” Virgil lifted an eyebrow, “I… _we_ know.”

 Roman gave him a bright, beaming grin, but it was his eyes that had Virgil wary, “Then I’ll go get some rest, shan’t I?”

 Virgil watched Roman go, shivering at the cold that had settled under his skin where Roman had touched him. Those eyes…they weren’t like Roman’s normal burning, passionate love. They were cold, cruel, looking for a weakness.

 He rubbed the cold spots with his palms, frowning as he felt a shiver run up his spine. Whatever was happening, it was spreading.

 It was time to check in on Thomas.


	7. Vigilance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry I didn't update this one yesterday, guys, I accidentally broke my routine and I didn't realize, so nothing I wrote made any sense. Or was any good. Hopefully we're starting to get into the good stuff now, and you're still enjoying the ride. Things will sense soon.
> 
> Warnings: Shortness of Breath, Intrusive Thoughts

** Vigilance **

 

 As he did most mornings, Logan woke up groggy and confused, blinking in his room slowly. Except he felt heavier than usual, drained, and it felt like something was sitting on his chest, pushing him down into the mattress.

 It was unpleasant, and considering the events of the day prior, Logan didn’t particularly feel like getting out of bed. He’d gotten nothing done, so overwhelmed by the pain that was jealousy and exhausted afterward that he’d simply crawled into bed.

 The awful twisting hunger that he’d felt since he’d awoken on Virgil’s chest the day before returned, gnawing at him and bringing tears to his eyes as he stared listlessly up at his ceiling.

 He had never experienced this before. Jealousy was Roman’s department. And for the most part, Roman handled it fairly well. It felt awkward, uncomfortable and overwhelming to be experiencing it now.

 Logan turned onto his side, curling his legs close to his chest as he pulled his blankets up to his chin. He really didn’t want to get out of bed, and despite how illogical that _did_ seem, he wanted to cry.

 This was compounded by the fact that there was no coffee waiting for him beside his bed that morning.

 A sharp stab of pain in his heart, unfamiliar and unbidden, made his waiting tears fall and Logan felt the way his lungs started to seize. He didn’t _want_ to cry, but his body had different ideas.

 The emotions swirled around him, so strong and overwhelming, so _painful_ , that Logan had to bite down on his pillow to muffle the wretched noises that escaped him as he sobbed and shook uncontrollably, tears streaming down unchecked.

 The fear soon joined in, the realisation that he had _no idea_ what was happening to him.

 He had experienced emotions. He knew what they were and over the years, had taken the necessary steps to log and categorise each sensation so he could be sure his reactions were…well, logical. And when they weren’t, he would leave to think it over, to try and understand better.

 He had sharp enough edges as it was, he had caused enough pain as it was, he didn’t need to cause anymore.

 Faintly, Logan heard a knock at his door but he couldn’t pull himself up to answer. The hunger mixing with the sharpness made it nearly impossible to move, other than to pull his blankets tighter around himself.

 He felt the bed dip beside him, then soft fingers brushing over his forehead, “Hey…”

  _Virgil_

“Sweetie…”

  _Virgil._

 He was vaguely aware that he was making choked noises, and that he was barely breathing, but the pain wouldn’t let him think. It wouldn’t let him process what was happening.

  _Virgil_

 Why did everything come back around to the darker of the Sides? Why did it always ease when he was nearby? Why was he the only thing he wanted now?

  _VIRgil_

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t function. Why couldn’t he do those things? Why was this happening to him? Was it the relationship? But he’d managed with Virgil for so long now-

  _VIRGIL_

 Logan curled himself up tighter, anything to try and ease the pain in his stomach and chest. What was happening to him? What had changed?

  _MINE_

 “Shhh,” Virgil’s weight had shifted over to the other side of the bed, closest to the wall, stretching down beside Logan, “I’m gonna stay for a bit, okay?”

  _MINE_

 “Can I join you in there? Your room is awful cold today.”

 Logan’s body moved on its own, turning toward Virgil and throwing the blanket open. Virgil smiled softly as he shifted closer, letting the blanket fall around him.

  _MINE_

 The anxious Side’s closeness eased some of the hunger gnawing at his stomach, and Logan realised he’d wrapped his arm around his waist, his other hand pressed to his heart.

  _MINEMINE_

 “I’m here.” Virgil cupped Logan’s cheek, his cool hand soothing some of the heat flashing over his face in waves. Was he having a fever? No, that couldn’t be it. He’d ruled that out yesterday. Was it yesterday?

  _VIRGILMINE_

 He was finally able to take a breath, one, small, shuddering breath and all he could smell was Virgil. The soft scent of lavender oils he used to help him sleep on bad nights, the mellow fragrance of his vanilla soap, the chalk of his eyeshadow.

 The hunger eased further, the sharp stabbing in his heart dissipating enough for Logan to hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

  _ViRgIlMiNe_

 “Can you hear me, hun?” Virgil sounded worried, gentle, tender, loving Virgil, worried about _him_. He deserved so much better, he deserved someone who could understand him, who coul-

 Virgil’s hand slid from Logan’s cheek to his waist, shifting himself closer, carefully brushing his feet against Logan’s shins. When had Logan uncurled? Had Virgil done that? How?

  _MYVIRGIL_

 “Are you in pain?” Virgil whispered, gently sliding his hand to Logan’s ribs and down to his hip, drawing it back up slowly and gently, something he hoped would ground Logan enough to talk.

 He tried, he really, _really_ tried. But he couldn’t open his mouth to respond, his jaw almost locked shut, teeth clenched painfully tight as he tried to breathe.

 Finally, he managed to nod, more tears sliding from his closed eyes as he trembled.

  _MY VIRGIL MINE_

 “Can you open your eyes?” Virgil asked softly, shifting a little closer and tangling their legs together.

 The hunger eased back a little more, and Logan’s eyes flew open on their own, rising to look up at Virgil’s blurry face. He wanted his glasses so bad, just to see his face, sleep fatigued and worried that it would be.

 “There you are,” he heard relief in Virgil’s voice, a smile as he slowly lay himself on Logan’s pillow, “Those beautiful eyes.”

  _MINEMINEMINE_

 Logan choked on a breath, staring helplessly at the subject of his hungry, feral desires. What did it want from him? Why was it so desperate for Virgil? There were things he wanted to do with the anxious Side, that much was a given. But neither of them were ready. So why-

  _MINEMINEMINE_

 “Is this helping?” Virgil asked, ever soft, ever careful, ever tender. How had Logan gotten so lucky? How could he ever show Virgil how much he _loved_ him? Words didn’t feel like enough. Actions didn’t feel like enough. Nothing was enough.

 His fingers slipped up under Logan’s shirt, brushing hot skin, cool fingers rising to his ribs. Like he’d found a switch, air flooded into Logan’s lungs in a ragged, shaky gasp.

 “Too much-?“

 Logan’s hand grabbed at his wrist, too tight, too desperate, trembling, but Virgil sighed softly. He stroked along Logan’s ribs with his thumb, an unspoken agreement, _it’ll stay, relax for me, it’s okay_.

  _stay with me don’t leave me ever I need you_

  _MINEMINEMINE_

 Trembling, Logan relaxed his grip on Virgil’s wrist, feeling him gently pull him closer. More of Virgil’s mellow, deep fragrances filled Logan’s nose, blocking out so much of the world around him. Virgil’s other arm gently slid out under his neck, and it was only now that Logan realised he’d shed his hoodie.

 “I love you.” Virgil whispered, pressing his forehead against Logan’s.

 The hunger eased back enough for Logan’s arm to fall away, the pain in his chest pulling back and the logical Side nearly gasped in a breath at the words. It always felt new to hear those words, magical and unbelievable, even before all of this.

 But it was always so much better from _him_.

 “There we go.” Virgil tilted his head, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Logan’s nose. The warmth spread over Logan’s face like fire, intoxicating and alive, so much headier and stronger than before.

  _MineMine_

 “Can you talk?” Virgil asked softly, sliding his hand carefully over Logan’s ribs and waist, his slightly callused hands tickling the soft, sensitive skin of Logan.

 He shook his head in response, too busy focussing on evening his breathing, trying to unlock his jaw, shaking violently under the blankets.

 “Should I get Patton-“

 Rage roiled, unbidden and unwanted, filling Logan’s mouth with bile and his skin flushed brightly. He felt Virgil jerk at the sensation, the sudden warming of Logan’s skin, the unconscious fists Logan had made at the sound of the Heart’s name.

 “No?” Virgil cautiously whispered, watching Logan’s eyebrows relax, his jaw easing a little, eyes opening again. “Okay, just us.” Virgil reassured, “Just us.”

 He felt the breath return to Logan, uneven but there, and he frowned to himself as he watched the logical Side’s face. That was two Sides now who had responded negatively to Patton’s name. And it wasn’t like Logan to get angry like _that_.

 Rage was not something Virgil wanted to see on Logan’s face again.

 “Does it help if I talk?”

 His breath stuttered, eyebrows drawing together with confusion as he pressed his hand flat against his sternum, jaw relaxing slightly.

 A small nod, tiny and barely there, but Virgil was so fixed on Logan that it would have been impossible to miss. He pulled the logical Side closer, pressing their chests together, ignoring the hand pressed between them.

 Virgil had the perfect topic, and he immediately started talking to Logan about some astronomy facts he’d picked up just to impress him.

 Slowly, Virgil could feel Logan relaxing, his breathing evening out, his trembling easing away.

 “Thank you.” Logan wheezed, jaw still tight, heavy with fatigue in Virgil’s arms, “I can’t-“

 Virgil smiled at him, “Let’s leave the explanations for somewhere else, huh?” he asked, pulling his hand over to Logan’s chest. He slipped his hand under Logan’s, pressing his hand to the bare skin over Logan’s heart.

 The anxious Side tensed for a moment, a ripple of shock, before he relaxed again, “What…do you mean?”

 He pressed their foreheads back together, “I’m worried it’s your room.” Virgil answered, feeling Logan’s hand fall away from his chest as Virgil kept his hand there.

 Logan’s eyebrows drew close again, “I hadn’t considered that.”

 Virgil smirked gently, “Logan, I’m not expecting you to have considered anything.” He gently teased, his other hand coming up to toy with locks of Logan’s sleep mussed hair, “It’s been two days of this. I can’t imagine you being able to think straight.”

 Logan sighed, pressing himself closer to Virgil, “There _are_ thoughts.” He whispered, Logan’s hand moving to Virgil’s waist and clinging to a handful of his shirt, “But they don’t feel like _my_ thoughts.”

 Considering how aware Logan was of intrusive thoughts, Virgil found it odd that he wouldn’t recognise them. But, as his fingers traced over the skin over Logan’s heart, maybe that wasn’t entirely his fault after all.

 None of this, was his fault.

 “Can you tell me what they are?” Virgil asked gently, letting Logan burrow his face in beneath Virgil’s chin. He let his eyes drift to the desk, listening to Logan’s ragged breathing for a few moments.

 “They’re…possessive.” He admitted, hand clenching tighter around Virgil’s shirt, “Desperately so…and that scares me, Virgil.”

 “Logan…sweetheart…possessive of what?” he asked, twirling a lock of Logan’s hair between his fingers.

 “Of…” his breath caught, and Virgil pressed his palm more fully against Logan’s chest. He whimpered softly, “It’s stupid and you’ll leave, I can’t-“

 Virgil turned his face, burying it in Logan’s hair, “Yes, you can.” He murmured, “I know you can.”

 The logical Side shuddered as he gasped for air, “Of… _you_ , Virge.” He expected the other Side to tense or jerk, or tear himself away, but he relaxed and Logan felt a smile on his scalp.

 “ _Me?_ ” he asked, almost teasing, before deciding against the wit that had obviously come to mind. Logan was silently grateful for that, “What kind of possessive thoughts?”

 “’Virgil’s mine’.” Logan shakily whispered, already trying to pull Virgil closer as though he was attempting to leave, “’Only mine’.” A choked sound escaped his throat, “And there have been…images…horrible things.” He shook his head, sucking in another breath, “I-“

 “It’s alright, Lo.” Virgil murmured, “I think I understand. You don’t have to say any more.” He felt Logan shudder and relax again, “We’ll figure this out, together, okay?” The logical Side nodded with a tiny whimper, “Let’s make sure you’re not sleeping in here tonight, though.”


	8. Like Old Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This ones a little more lighthearted, I guess is the word I'd use?  
> WARNINGS: Physical Violence, Immobilization, Strangulation (minor),
> 
> (No one gets seriously hurt, I promise)

** Like Old Times **

 

 Roman woke up groggy, stiff and sore, coughing weakly as he tried to open his eyes and move his aching arms and legs, but no matter what he tried, nothing was cooperating.

 He groaned softly, trying to move but nothing worked. What had happened? He recalled putting his jacket on, which was now awkwardly twisted around his back, and he remembered walking to Log-

 The memory flashed quickly into the forefront of his mind. The door swallowing him, trying to call for Patton to help, struggling to get away from whatever it was that was dragging him in.

 His heart started to beat wildly in his chest, throat sore and tight as he tried to gasp for air, tentatively trying to move his arms or legs. Well, he couldn’t open his eyes, that was for certain. There was something coiled around his throat, just tight enough to make it hard to breathe and uncomfortable, and he winced as he swallowed painfully.

 It was cold. Wherever he was, it was unbearably cold. He felt almost frozen in place, but it wasn’t cold or wet, like ice was. Maybe he was still in the door? It would explain why he couldn’t move, but then, why was he conscious now?

 How long had he been out? Where were the others? Were they okay? Roman bit his lip, barely holding back a frightened whimper. Gods, he hoped they were okay.

 Why wasn’t he more careful?! Did anyone even realise he was gone? Virgil might have been suspicious, but Logan had his own issues to deal with right now and Patton…well, Patton would have been trying to help Logan.

 “Hello?” he croaked out, hating the way his voice trembled as he tried to at least lift his head. It was then he realised that he was at least upright, even if he couldn’t feel the ground. His breathing was laboured, chest pressing out against whatever had engulfed his body every time he drew in a breath, making it nearly impossible to get a full breath in.

 “Ah, you’re awake.” A voice echoed from a distance, and Roman frowned.

 Was that… _his_ voice?

 “I can imagine you’re terrible confused right now, Prince Roman. _Creativity_.”

 Even though he knew it was futile, Roman tried to move, anything to feel just a little less helpless. “You seem to know an awful lot about me.” Roman croaked, wincing as the thing coiled around his neck made it difficult to talk, “But who are you?”

 A soft chuckle, dark and cruel, moving across the room as Roman heard clicking. He recognised the sound from his own strides, boot heels along stone. Was he in the Imagination? No, he would have noticed by now. Or been able to do _something_ about his bonds.

 “I suppose there is no harm in telling _you_.” The voice replied, “I don’t believe you’ll be getting free anytime soon.” Roman scowled, trying again to move, to make _anything_ budge, “And the others are blissfully unaware of your absence.”

 That made his heart sink to his stomach. They didn’t know? What…this… _thing_ had his voice…did it have his image too?

 “Ah, I see that’s a weak spot for you.” Roman could only imagine a cruel smile being flashed at him, still unable to see, “But you are not the one I want to break.”

 “Break?” his voice cracked and swallowed against the coil around his throat.

 “To be frank, I had no intention of letting you wake.” It continued, “But, it appears that if you are unconscious, I cannot keep up the façade.” It sighed dramatically, “I had not expected Virgil to remain so…well, vigilant.”

 It chuckled darkly and Roman felt the tiniest spark of hope in his chest at that. Virgil had nearly figured it out? Or at least, seen something? As much as Roman hated that hawkish stare Virgil had, he was almost grateful for it now.

 “We are merely too different, you and I.” it continued, “I have never been passionate or warm. Jealous, yes.” Roman could hear the smirk in its voice, “Just as I have never been particularly creative or…capable of _abstract_ thought.” It sighed as Roman merely listened. There wasn’t much else he _could_ do, “But now that you are awake,” it chuckled again, “I can feel _just_ how strong you are.”

 Roman winced, grunting as he tried to at least shift the coil around his throat, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

 Another chuckle, still too dark to sound right using his own voice. “I did not expect you to avoid a question about yourself,” boot heels clicking on stone as it approached him, slow and menacing. Roman couldn’t help but swallow, tilting his head back, “Since you are typically so _happy_ to brag.”

 Oh. _Oh_. It was trying to bait him.

 “Though I would normally _love_ to talk about myself,” Roman countered, feeling a little more confident despite his circumstances, “I normally prefer to know who I’m speaking to.”

 It was standing just before him, though Roman realised he was definitely suspended somehow, by the sound of the disappointed click of teeth and tongue coming from below.

 He heard the tell-tale _whoosh_ of his magic at work, before something pulled away slowly from his eyes. Opening them took work, the dim light of a candle too bright to his eyes, but when they adjusted he felt his blood run cold.

 He couldn’t be sure exactly where they were, but it was a small, stone cell, unnaturally dark save for the dim candle burning on a stool beside them. Beside the stool was a table covered in various tools, and opposite that, another table with more tools.

 Tools Roman recognised from his own dungeon. None of which he’d ever had to use, but recognised.

 His mouth went dry as his eyes finally fell on the stranger before him, eyes blowing wide as he stared back at himself. He was smirking, hands clasped behind his back, dark shadows flickering over his features from the dim candlelight beside them.

 He’d slicked his hair straight back, instead of Roman’s usual sideways flick. The coat was pristine, buckled up and nearly glowing in the darkness of the room. A cruel smile pulled on it’s face as Roman finally met its eyes.

 They were darker, darker than Roman’s ever were, filled with so much hate, cruelty and anger that Roman shivered, gulping unconsciously.

 “That is certainly a response I had expected from Logan or perhaps Virgil, but not _you_ , Roman.” The doppelganger spoke slowly, “But, you are also fairly intelligent. I suppose you’ve realised you can’t move by now.”

 Roman fought the urge to roll his eyes, watching as it slowly moved over to the table furthest from the candle. It brushed a gloved hand over the tools, eyes dancing with cruel lights before it paused.

 “So, tell me, Roman.” Leaning with its hip against the table, it crossed its arms, “How well do you know Morality?”

 There was a cold hiss in the way it said the title, a flash of hatred, burning and bright in it’s eyes at the mere mention of the fatherly Side.

 “What kind of question is that?” he countered with a near hiss himself, “Patton-“

 “We won’t be using his name here, Roman.” It countered, narrowing its eyes, “Liars do not get _names_.”

 “He is _anything_ but a liar.” Roman retorted, trying once more to wriggle _anything_.

 The laugh that escaped the near-perfect-copy of Roman was cruel and cold, and sent a chill of fear down the prince’s spine, “Oh, so perhaps not as well as you thought then.”

 Roman sneered, a near copy of Virgil’s old expression, “I know _Patton_ -“ the stranger jerked, eyes wide and furious, “-far better than I know _you_.” Its hand wrapped around one of the tools, “You won’t even give me a _title_.”

 There was a tense silence, Roman sneering and the stranger processing Roman’s words. Finally, it took the bait, releasing the weapon and stepping away from the table.

 “I have had many names, Roman.” It clasped its hands behind it’s back, shoulders set and head high. Roman couldn’t help but frown. Did _he_ look like that? “Anger. Temper. Insanity. I suppose, this is because I am _more_ than one.” Its lips twisted, eyelids hooding his dark eyes, “But I prefer _Hatred_ for the time being.”

 Roman would have laughed in relief, if it weren’t for his (frankly) terrifying circumstances, “You’re an emotion.”

 Hatred smirked back at him, “I am _many_ emotions. Emotions Morality has refused to acknowledge, ignored, _betrayed_.” Roman narrowed his eyes as Hatred rolled his shoulders, “And now we are strong enough to finally get what we deserve.”

 Roman arched an eyebrow, “Recognition?”

 Hatred looked stunned for a moment, eyes flashing in the dim light, “What?” it barked incredulously, “No! Revenge!”

 “Oh.” Roman forced himself to sound disappointed, “Thanks for the clarification.”

 Hatred narrowed its eyes and Roman did his best to hide his amusement. If he couldn’t escape, and it was going to use his body, Roman may as well be a thorn in its side. Apparently, he was good at it. Virgil liked to remind him. Though, Virgil liked other choice words.

 “I wouldn’t mock me, Roman.”

 The prince sighed, “Your monologue is _boring_ me, Hatred.” Roman swallowed against the coil again, dropping his head back against the wall, “I am easily _bored_.”

 The corner of Hatred’s lip twitched upward slightly and Roman let his head lower again, “You would like me to get to the point?”

 “If you could.” Roman answered, wondering where this bravado had been earlier. Maybe it had all sunk in already. Or he was so used to talking to his jerk-face reflection that this didn’t scare him anymore. Either way, Hatred was starting to look frustrated.

 “And if I were to leave?”

 Oh, it wanted him to beg. How cute.

 “Guess I’d wait.” Roman was surprised how flippant he sounded about it, “Not like I’m going anywhere, right?”

 Maybe putting his jacket on that morning…yesterday? Whatever, had been a good idea. He really _was_ feeling far more confident. He was actually taking great _pleasure_ in pissing off this…thing. Emotion, for lack of a better word.

 “For a Side so powerful, I had not expected you to be so…”

 “Dramatic? Arrogant? Gorgeous?”

 “… _careless_.”

 Hm. _That_ was a new one.

 “Do tell, Hatred. In what way am I being careless?” Roman arched an eyebrow, watching as Hatred’s face flashed with more frustration, “Perhaps I can rectify this.”

 A pleased smirk suddenly pulled on Hatred’s face and Roman had to fight his own smirk.

 “You are currently completely immobilized,”

 “I had noticed.”

 “With no knowledge of your whereabouts,”

 “Yes.”

 “You’ve been met with your own reflection,”

 “Not the first time, but go on.”

 Hatred looked surprised for a moment, but continued, “Who at least appears _willing_ to harm you,”

 “I am _literally_ covered in scars, but go on.”

 Hatred drew in a deep breath, an attempt to keep his cool, “With no means of escape or rescue.”

 “Yes.” There was a silence between the pair as Hatred blinked at Roman, and Roman smirked back at him with an eyebrow raised. “Your point?”

 “You _should_ be afraid.” Hatred snarled and Roman snickered, shaking his head.

 “See, Hatred, that’s part of the problem, isn’t it?” Hatred was silent as Roman sighed, “I am Prince Roman. As a prince, I regularly visit the Imagination. There are a great deal of things to _do_ in the Imagination.” Hatred was listening, his eyes searching Roman’s face for anything that would betray a lie, “And to be fair, not everything Thomas imagines is _remembered_.”

 “This is not remotely frightening for you?” Hatred asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

 “I will give you credit, it _was_ frightening.” Roman sighed, “But seeing as there is nothing I can do?” he shook his head, “I would shrug but…”

 Hatred’s lips twisted and pressed into a thin line, his eyes flashing with anger, “You’re mocking me.”

 “Hardly!” Roman barked with a laugh, “It just feels very… _cliché_.”

 Oh, the surge of joy when he got to say it _finally_ was blissful. He’d heard it so many times from Virgil, he’d always wanted to say it himself. Oh, and the look of confusion and anger on Hatred’s face was _delicious_.

 “Cliché?” it asked.

 “Oh, very much so.” Roman nodded, feeling the awkward coil around his throat loosening slightly. He wasn’t sure why, but he wasn’t going to call attention to it now, “The monologues, the dark and dingy cell, the tools laid out that are simply too _clean_ to have been used before?” Hatred stiffened, “Not to mention the… _poised, calm antagonist._ ”

 Hatred narrowed his eyes, “Don’t test me.”

 “Oh and of course, the temper _beneath_ the façade of said antagonist.”

 A huff of air escaped Hatred, swiftly stepping toward Roman, “You _are_ mocking me.”

 “Sweetheart,” Hatred flinched, “You would know if I was mocking you. Like now.” Hatred drew back a step, “See the difference?”

 Roman watched with some apprehension as Hatred picked up a tool, swinging it in his hands. It was inevitable that Hatred might attempt to hurt him, and Roman had a theory about how that would turn out.

 Even though he really wasn’t eager for the pain, it _was_ necessary to test it out. And hey, wouldn’t Logan be proud? He was doing an experiment!

 Kinda.

 “Roman… _Creativity_ , I had hoped to have a civil conversation with you.”

 “We _are_.” Roman countered, “This is a remarkably civil conversation, considering the circumstances.” He smiled at Hatred, and-

 Welp, _that_ hurt.

 Hatred swung the tool, hitting him across the face. Roman was pretty sure that pliers weren’t used like that, but hey, whatever works.

 The pain spread across his cheekbone into his skull and down into his jaw, and he’d cried out, but he grit his teeth to bite back the tears.

 “Was it something I said?” Roman asked, hair perfectly covering his eyes to hide the tears shining in them as he lifted head again.

 “You are testing my patience, prince.” Hatred hissed, fires burning in his eyes.

 “As Temper, I wouldn’t think you _had_ any.”

 Another swing, nearly striking the same spot twice. Roman panted, nearly laughing from the pain, feeling blood pooling in his gums. Oh, he’d bit his cheek.

 Hatred gripped him by the jaw, forcing him to turn back and look him in the eye. Roman winced, “What is Virgil’s _weakness_?”

 “So, _now_ you want to get to the point?” Roman let blood trickle down his chin from the corner of his mouth, “I was enjoying our little chitchat.”

 Hatred tightened his grip, pressing the tool against the strange not-quite-a-solid holding him still. Roman supposed it was meant to press against his ribs, but he couldn’t feel it.

 “What is Virgil’s weakness?” it growled, eyes burning.

 “Hatred, I must tell you, I can’t _feel_ that.” Surprise flickered in it’s eyes before it drew back and swung again, hitting Roman a third time, lower near the jaw. That time he yelped, and when Hatred seized his jaw again, pain shot through the side of his face.

 “What is-“

 “Virgil’s weakness, yes, yes.” Roman spat blood out, nearly grinning when some of it splashed onto Hatred’s sleeve. He withdrew, looking horrified as Roman spat more out, “I’m afraid I’m the wrong Side to ask.” He continued, coughing when blood tried to slide into his throat, “And I’m not entirely sure _who_ would know.”

 “What are you talking about?” Hatred sounded exasperated now, tossing the bloodied clamps aside to rattle amongst the other tools, “Of course you know!”

 Roman laughed, blood pouring from his mouth, “We didn’t even know his _name_.” he jeered, “Not until…what was it? Two…three years ago? Time gets away from me, honestly-“

 Hatred tightened the coil around Roman’s throat, cutting off his air and Roman winced as he did his best not to choke loudly.

 “We will see how chatty you are when I have another Side here with you.” Hatred growled, lowering his hand and the coil relaxed, far further than it had been before. Good.

 Roman didn’t bother to even placate Hatred with begging, smirking up at him, “Oh, you have no _idea_.”

 Hatred’s eyes flashed, before it spun on it’s heel and stormed away, leaving Roman alone as he spat out blood and waited for the clicking of heels to almost completely fade away.

 Well, that had been a rather successful conversation. And, oh, how he missed talking circles around men like him! Ah, he really should return to the Imagination soon. Once he’d…uh…figured out how to get home, first.

 With the coil looser due to Hatred’s oversight, Roman was able to look up at his hands. It was almost like shadows were holding him, but they were solid, unmoving. All he could be certain of, was that it was deep black, that reflected _no_ light at all.

 He smiled as he looked down the darkness on the other end of the cell. He’d gotten far more answers out of Hatred than the emotion would ever get out of him. And Hatred would wish he _hadn’t_ hit Roman.

 How was he going to explain a bruise like that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you guys for interacting with me so often. I know this one's been a little complicated and confusing, but I think we're finally getting to the good parts now. Should be an interesting ride from here! <3


	9. Admit It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Bless all of you beautiful people who have left me comments in the last few days. I was getting worried I'd gotten off track, but I am so, so glad that I hadn't completely de-railed my story somewhere. I'm so glad it still makes sense. XD  
>  And bless you, strange human, who left me two GIGANTIC comments this morning. It was so much fun to read through them!  
>  I really, really love to hear from you guys. Questions, theories, favourite quotes. It doesn't just give me energy to continue, but sometimes even ideas on how to start. So thank you <3 For taking the time to leave me these little comments. <3 <3 I love all of you so much.
> 
> Now! Here's a surprise for you all...
> 
> There are no warnings for this chapter!!

** Admit It **

 

 He’d looked everywhere.

 There was no way that it had gotten out on its own. Patton had made sure to take _every_ precaution. Bottles and safeguards and even Virgil helping him check on it every couple of months. It wasn’t supposed to just _disappear!_

 But, that the was the truth of the matter, wasn’t it?

 It _had_ gotten out. And in two days, it had nearly ripped the family apart. _Two days._

 Patton sat on the edge of his bed, feet dangling just short of the floor, but he curled over and buried his hands in his hair. This wasn’t supposed to happen. What was he supposed to _do?!_

Tears continued to roll down his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to wipe them away anymore. He had to tell one of them. He had to get help. The only one who knew was Virgil and he’d-

 He’d _lied_.

 Virgil was going to be so _mad_ at him. He was going to be so upset. Patton had put everyone at risk and now they were hurting and-

 A soft knock at the door yanked Patton violently from his spiralling thoughts and his head snapped up to the sound, his breath catching in his throat.

 “Pat?” Virgil’s soft, tired voice barely filtered through the door, “Can I come in?” Patton bit his lip, considering his options carefully, before a tiny, broken, “Please?”

 Oh, what had he done?

 He leapt from the bed, throwing his door open and feeling his heart breaking at the sight of Virgil. He was shaking, hands thrust into the pockets of his hoodie, eyes glassy as he stared at the floor. How much responsibility had he suddenly thrust on Virgil’s shoulders? He had a hard enough time looking after _himself_.

 “Oh, sweetheart.” Patton whispered, reaching out and putting his hand on Virgil’s arm.

 Virgil looked up, finally, his eyes soft and scared before they widened and he straightened.

  _Oh dear._

 “Have you been crying?” Virgil asked, pushing aside his own needs for Patton. As he always did.

 “I’m alright, kiddo.” Patton lied, forcing a smile as he brushed the tears away.

 Virgil’s eyes narrowed a little, “Pat.”

 He froze, eyes wide as Virgil’s eyes slowly slid over him. He really, _really_ didn’t like it when Virgil studied him, _especially_ when he felt like this.

 Guilt weighed on his shoulders, and Patton couldn’t help but drop his eyes, reaching up to fiddle with the sleeves of his hoodie. But it wasn’t there.

 His hands dropped to his sides like weights.

 “What’s going on?” Virgil asked, his voice pitched low and soft. Patton had heard him using that tone on Logan and Roman, soothing them, having learnt it from Patton himself. It was so odd to hear it pitched at _him_.

 How was he supposed to explain? ‘Oh, Virgil, I lied to you! Everyone’s hurting and it’s all my fault!’

 He winced, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

 “We should talk.” He managed to whisper, sighing hard and taking a step back and gesturing for Virgil to enter.

 Virgil was frozen at the door, eyes wide, tense as he looked at Patton like he’d grown another head. Patton lifted his head, and he could see the panic flickering over Virgil’s face, his mind racing through every possible outcome of the conversation.

 Slowly, he unlocked his muscles, taking a few hesitant steps inside and let Patton close the door. The influence of the room wasn’t enough to help him relax, not like it usually did, but he moved with Patton further into the room anyway.

 Virgil stopped in the middle of Patton’s fluffy puppy rug, wriggling his toes as he tried to keep himself grounded. Patton continued to the bed, hopping in order to sit and clasping his hands nervously in his lap.

 “Pat?” Virgil’s voice was small, shrinking in on himself a little as he bit his lip, “Did I…did –“

 Patton’s heart twisted when he saw Virgil’s eyes were locked on the carpet, his eyes glassy, lip trembling as he fought with tears that clearly wanted to get out.

 “It wasn’t you.” Patton said softly, watching as Virgil’s shoulders drew together, and he lifted his eyes, but not his chin. Despite being taller than Patton, Virgil had managed to make himself look like a small child. Patton dropped his own eyes to his hands, “It was me, kiddo.”

 There was a short silence between them as the words sank in, and Patton only hoped that whatever guilt and fear Virgil had been feeling had sifted away somewhat.

 “What…what do you mean?” he asked, voice still small and scared.

 He couldn’t even begin to imagine the scenarios playing out in Virgil’s head. “Come sit, kiddo.” He pet the bed beside him, waiting patiently as Virgil hesitated and slowly shuffled forward.

 He fell onto the bed beside Patton, curling his legs up protectively in front of his chest but kept his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

 “You know…the other day, when you asked me if I’d felt anything change?” Virgil frowned, nodding his head slowly. Patton sighed, “I lied to you.” He whispered, his shoulders dropping as Virgil tensed beside him, “And I know why it felt different.”

 The silence that stretched between them was thick and heavy, almost as heavy as the cold guilt that had hung itself from Patton’s heart like a weight. He expected Virgil to get angry, to shoot to his feet and start screaming at him.

 He didn’t expect the soft voice that escaped him, “Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice grew thick, cracking a little at the end, “You…you said…”

 Patton flinched, the weights on his heart growing heavier, “I’m sorry.” He felt tears filling in his own eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet Virgil’s. He couldn’t bring himself to face the pain he’d caused his dark, strange son. “I didn’t want to worry you. You were already doing so much…” Patton finally drew his feet up, hugging his legs tightly to his chest, “I thought I could find it but-“ his voice broke, tears sliding freely down his cheeks again, “-but I _can’t_.”

 He heard a strangled, muffled sob from Virgil, “But… _Pat_ …”

 His head hung even lower at the broken sounds Virgil was making, “I’m so sorry, Virgil.” He whispered, hugging himself tighter. Maybe if he held tighter, the cold would ease eventually, “I just wanted to _help_.” Patton bit his lip hard, before continuing, “You were already doing so much for all of us and now you’re stuck doing it all because I can’t pull myself together-“

 “Stop…stop, please…” Virgil whimpered, “It hurts, Pat…”

 “I’m sorry-“

 “Your guilt _hurts_ -“

 Patton suddenly lifted his head, turning to see Virgil gritting his teeth, eyes squeezed closed, tears streaming down his face. He was covering his head, trembling violently, curled up as tightly as he could manage on the bed.

 “Virgil?” Patton whispered, unsure of what was happening. His guilt? What was Virgil talking about?

 “Out.” He whimpered, “Out of…your room… _please_ …”

 “Kiddo…” Patton frowned, “I just-“

 This was all his fault. He was hurting Virgil. He was-

 As a surge of cold, gnawing pain shot through Patton, Virgil keened, gasping for air as he tangled his fingers in his hair. It was only then that it truly sank in and Patton shot to his feet, “Virgil, oh my god, Virgil?”

 How could he forget? How could he forget how keenly Virgil felt negative emotions? How much worse they felt for him?

 “Hang on, we’ll…we’ll go out to the hall-“ Patton gently put his hands on Virgil’s elbows, pulling him gently to his feet. Virgil was shaking, but trusting in Patton’s hands, walking blindly as Patton led him across the room, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

 Virgil didn’t take his fingers out of his hair, or open his eyes, but he did gasp for air as soon as they were out the door and in the hallway. He stumbled back a few steps, finding the wall and sliding down to the floor.

 Should he try and comfort him? Patton had caused this. He lied and he forgot about the room’s influence and-

 He didn’t really have to think about it long.

 Virgil grabbed at his polo, yanking him into Virgil’s lap and the anxious Side wrapped his arms tightly around Patton’s waist. He buried his face in Patton’s shoulder, trembling violently, “Please…” he whimpered, “Please…I need-“

 Patton relaxed against him, wrapping his own arms around Virgil, “I’m sorry-“

 “Stop it.” He whimpered, shaking his head, “Stop it. Please.” He tried to pull Patton closer, “I can’t…I want to…” he sobbed against Patton’s shoulder, “I can’t _think_ straight…”

 Patton sank against Virgil, “I’m-“

 Virgil pinched Patton gently through his shirt, “Stop it.”

 Patton yelped, tightening his hold before a tiny, wet giggle escaped him, “Sorry.” He whispered.

 It took them some time to calm down, Virgil’s breathing evening out first, and Patton slowly let go, sitting back to look down at Virgil.

 He raised his head, eyes puffy and red, but a small smirk pulled onto his face, “I stained your shirt again.” His voice was rough and thick, but his eyes shone with a warmth Patton felt he really, _really_ didn’t deserve.

 “That’s okay, kiddo.” Patton whispered, trying to pull away but Virgil refused to break his hold on Patton’s waist, “Virge?”

 “You lied to me.”

 Patton flinched, ducking his head but Virgil was beneath him, making it impossible to hide his face, “I’m-“

 “You’ve _never_ lied to me.”

 His voice wasn’t nearly as hard as Patton expected it to be, almost…worried. Patton couldn’t bring himself to look at Virgil, “I just-“

 “But you still haven’t told me _why_.”

 Patton frowned, “I didn’t want you to worry-“

 Virgil shook his head and Patton lifted his eyes, meeting Virgil’s as he sank against the wall, “Worry about _what_ , Patton?”

 The words got stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him. After all this, he wasn’t able to admit to what he’d done? He had to. He _knew_ he had to.

 “Temper’s gone.” He whispered.

 Virgil jerked, eyes slowly widening.

 “So are a lot of the others.”

 Panic flickered in Virgil’s eyes as he stared up at Patton.

 “And I can’t find them.”


	10. Imposter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry it's taken me a few days, I lost motivation for the story for a little bit there, but I'm back again and ready for everything to finally hit the fan! Get ready for a ride cause hot damn!
> 
> Warnings: Swearing

** Imposter **

 

 Virgil sank onto the couch, hands in his hair as he tried to even out his breathing. He was so _fucking_ tired. When was the last time he actually got a proper night’s rest? It felt like an eternity.

 Logan had drifted in and out of sleep on the couch for the most part of the day. Thankfully, he didn’t have another episode of…whatever the hell it was. Jealousy? Well, for Logan that certainly _would_ hurt. It being his first time experiencing it and all that.

 Patton’s guilt had gotten the better of him again, except now he was cleaning… _everything_. It had taken Virgil nearly two hours to convince him to stop cleaning the counter and go to bed. It was eleven at night now, and Virgil was glad to hear nothing coming from Patton’s room. Not even a sob.

 Roman had been gone most of the day. It was odd, for Roman not to come out of his room, but Virgil had honestly been so busy trying to help Logan and Patton that he hadn’t really had time to check on him.

 He sighed, maybe now he should. He couldn’t ignore Roman now. He was still healing, however slowly, and he needed to make sure he didn’t spiral again. Without Logan or Patton to help him, he had to try and keep Thomas safe. Or at least _sane_.

 Struggling to his feet, feeling a little dizzy and weak, Virgil shuffled to the stairs and clung to the railing as he pulled himself up. His hoodie slipped off one shoulder, but he didn’t even have the strength to fix it.

 He just wanted to check on Roman, and sleep. Preferably for a week.

 Virgil didn’t bother to knock, pressing his hand against the wood and sagging as it unlocked and swung itself open slowly. It wasn’t unusual for Virgil to do so, to be honest. Even when he _wasn’t_ tired.

 Roman looked up from a notebook, pen frozen mid-word, eyes wide and surprised.

 “Hey, sorry I haven’t-“ Virgil felt all of the fatigue rush away at the sudden adrenaline rush, “What the _fuck_ happened to your face?”

 If Virgil wasn’t so tired, he probably would have worded that a bit better. Who knew how well Roman was going to take that? If Virgil caused another spiral-

 “What _are_ you talking about?” Roman asked, one eyebrow raised in question, lowering his pen to the notebook.

 Virgil couldn’t help but blink in surprise. A dark bruise had spread across the left side of Roman’s face, his eye nearly swollen shut. Dried blood dribbled from his lip to his chin, and Virgil swallowed nervously.

 This…was _not_ normal.

 He waved vaguely at his own face, “Have you seen…I mean…you’re…” he swallowed as Roman turned in his seat to face Virgil, “Who _hit_ you?”

 The darkness in Roman’s eyes almost seemed to deepen as he frowned in confusion, before he rose to his feet. A spike of fear shot up Virgil’s spine. There were few times where Virgil had felt that near Roman, and in each instance, Roman had done far _more_ than simply stand.

 “Virgil, darling, what _are_ you talking about?”

 What little patience Virgil had left eroded away, “Have you _looked_ in a mirror?” he snapped, almost flinching when he remembered how long it had been since Roman had been able to even _think_ about it.

 But Roman frowned at him quizzically, turned toward the vanity, and glanced at his reflection. Roman’s nonchalance regarding the mirror, Doubt’s lack of appearance (considering Roman’s supposed state) and the way Roman’s face soured made Virgil’s blood run so cold he froze.

 This was wrong. This was _so_ wrong. He forgot Logan’s coffee that morning. He _snarled_ Patton’s name. He had his hair swept _back_ , not to the side. Emotions were missing. Roman hadn’t come down that morning. Logan was in pain.

 “Oh, I must have taken a hit in the Imagination.” Roman chuckled, straightening before waving his hand and repairing the vanity completely.

 Roman _looked in a mirror_ and didn’t wince. He _laughed_. He’d been in the _Imagination_?

 “When did you go in there?” Virgil asked, trying to keep his voice was wavering.

 Roman waved flippantly as he carefully started buttoning his jacket closed. It didn’t seem to fit quite right, but Virgil couldn’t figure out _why_ , “Oh, a few hours ago.” Roman continued to study his appearance in the mirror.

 A few days ago, Roman couldn’t leave the couch. A few days ago, he’d passed out under a weighted blanket. A few days ago, he’d been almost out of effort. He was nearing a breakdown. There was _no_ explanation for how he’d bounced back this quickly.

 “A few…” Virgil felt the words die on his lips, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He tried hard to sound concerned, but there was something so _wrong_ about Roman, that he couldn’t ignore the way his body was screaming at him to _run run RUN_

 Roman turned to him, “Sweetheart,” the word was so sickeningly sweetened that Virgil felt his stomach flip, “I’m fine.” The smile looked forced, not his usual proud, happy beam. “It’s just a bruise, okay?”

 Virgil’s breathing stuttered, “No, I mean…” he waved to the mirror, “You…didn’t even…hesitate.” Roman frowned, glancing back at the mirror for a moment, “You were able to look…”

 “Oh hun,” Virgil winced involuntarily. It sounded _wrong_ , “Come here,” he opened his arms to Virgil, “You look exhausted. When was the last time you slept?”

 Virgil hesitantly stepped into Roman’s arms, waiting for the warmth and security to wash over him as it always had in the past. But as the arms circled around him, he felt cold and distant, like Roman had never held a person in his life. It was too tight, too rigid, chilling the skin under Virgil’s hoodie.

 “I don’t know.” He whispered, feeling tears pricking into his eyes. He didn’t know what was wrong with Roman, why it felt so wrong to be held by him, why he _sounded_ wrong.

 He let his head fall onto Roman’s shoulder, “Oh dearest, why don’t we get you into bed then, huh?”

 Virgil shook his head, trying to fight off shivers as Roman held him tightly, burying his face in Virgil’s neck. The skin chilled, and Virgil grit his teeth to force the shiver away, eyes squeezing closed.

 “I’ll be okay.” He whispered, “Gotta look after Logan.” That was a blatant lie. Logan was going to be out for a few more hours at least, “He’s in a lot of pain.”

 Virgil lifted his head from Roman’s shoulder, signalling that he was done with the embrace, but Roman didn’t let go. Something else that screamed _wrong wrong WRONG_

 “I’m sure he is,” Roman whispered against Virgil’s neck, “But you need a break.”

 Virgil frowned, trying to push Roman back, “I’ll be fine.”

 The prince barely moved, a smile pulling onto his face instead, “You say that, but I don’t think you are.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s neck.

 The shiver was cold, frightening and _wrong_ , _wrong, WRONG RUN_

 “Let go of me.” Virgil tried to twist, hoping to break Roman’s hold, but the prince held tighter, almost knocking all of the wind out of Virgil’s chest, “Roman-“ he whimpered, heart fluttering in his chest.

 What the hell was _wrong_ with him? This wasn’t like him at all! Roman _never_ held on longer than he was supposed to. He _never_ ignored Virgil when he needed space. He _never_ held him this tight.

 “Just a nap, please?” Roman whispered in his ear, the air sending an involuntary shudder down Virgil’s spine.

 “Let go.” He whimpered, tears flooding up into his eyes, “Please.”

 Virgil pushed back again, but Roman sighed, shifting to lift Virgil from his feet. He yelped, twisting again as Roman drew him up, “You just need some sleep-“

 “ _Stop it!_ ” Virgil screamed, kicking wildly for the floor, “You’re scaring me, Roman, please-“

 Roman’s hold tightened again and Virgil winced with a yelp, “I haven’t done anything.” It was nearly a growl, and he had kept his face turned from Virgil’s so the anxious Side couldn’t see his expression. All the same, it was too cold, too aggressive to be Roman.

  _run run RUN_

 The same twisting he’d felt all those years ago was back, the desperate need to escape, to hide, as far into the subconscious as he could go.

 “Just _let go_!” Virgil tried to twist free, a broken sob escaping him and Roman finally unlatched his arms, drawing himself up to his full-height as Virgil stumbled backward.

 He couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t…it couldn’t be…

 He stared up at Roman, or whoever the fuck it was, “ _Why_?!”

 He wasn’t sure why he was asking to be honest. He should have run, tried to get his breathing back under control, anything but demand an _answer_.

 Roman’s eyes flashed with anger, “Why? I was trying to _help_ you!”

 The way his voice vibrated through the room, sent chills of terror down Virgil’s back. Roman had _never_ raised his voice like that. Not since they were kids. He squealed with excitement and maybe bickered with Logan, but he never _shouted at Virgil_.

 Even when he was just Anxiety.

 It all seemed to finally clear. He didn’t know how he knew. All he could do was desperately gasp for air, hand clutching at his shirt over his heart, trying to figure out _how_ he knew what was wrong.

 But he knew.

 “You _know_ that doesn’t help!” Virgil cried back, a breath stuttering into his chest, “You _know_ that!”

 Roman froze, hands clenching into fists at his sides, “You need to take a deep breath, Virgil.”

 The cold, detached way he spoke the words, his name, sent another chill down Virgil’s spine. And as much as he hated to do it, he lifted his eyes to Roman’s. He searched as hard and as deep as he could, ignoring each tremor of fear, each time Roman tried to pull his eyes away.

 Even though he hated it, Roman had never done that before.

 “I’m going.” Virgil stumbled for the door, trying desperately to get his breathing just a little deeper, hoping, _hoping_ Roman would let him leave.

 Roman’s hand fell on his hoodie, “Get some sleep.” He whispered, pressing a frigid kiss to Virgil’s temple, “You need it.”

 “Yeah, sure.” Virgil pulled away, closing the door behind him. He stumbled straight for his room, throwing the door open and slamming it shut behind him.

 It took almost an hour to calm down enough to think straight again, and the first thought that occurred to Virgil made him feel even colder than before.

 Every touch from Roman remained, cold reminders that something was wrong. Horribly wrong with the Prince. It made him feel gross, and ashamed, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

 He shot into the shower, feeling the cold sensations wash away and his chest loosening as the hot water rushed over him and through his hair. It was only once he was there that it occurred to him.

 He hadn’t showered in nearly three days. Patton hadn’t told him to, Logan was too sick to remind him and Roman was…

 Virgil winced, rubbing at the aches in his arm from where Roman had clung too tightly. That would bruise for sure. Virgil was almost certain his ribs were going to start cracking. It was like Roman had forgotten exactly how _strong_ he was-

 Wrong. Forgotten. Forced.

 Virgil didn’t think much about what he was doing as the realisation finally, _finally_ sank in. He leapt out of the shower, changed into a fresh pair of jeans and shirt, before slinging his hoodie on.

 He leapt for his wardrobe, finding one of Roman’s shirts buried at the bottom, forgotten after all this time. He pressed his face into it and then it hit him. The smell that was _Roman_. Flowery perfumes, chalky make-up, warm leather, fresh grass. Adventuring and self-care and _romance_.

 This Roman, this _new_ Roman, didn’t have this smell. He didn’t have _any_ smell.

 Virgil glanced at the time on his phone, Roman’s shirt gripped tightly in his hand. Hmm. Two a.m. Logan would wake at about four, and Virgil needed to be back to be sure that Logan woke up okay.

 That gave him two hours of searching.

 He carefully tucked Roman’s shirt under his pillow, put his phone back in his pocket and trotted over to his door to the subconscious. He was going to pay Doubt a visit first.


	11. Hope At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oof. Getting close to the climax now, guys! Please heed the warnings!
> 
> Warnings: Immobilization, Blood, Swearing, Physical Abuse, Torture, Burns

** Hope At Last **

 

 Trudging down the stairs at nine in the morning, Patton frowned when he found Virgil cradling Logan in his lap, gently running his fingers through his hair.

 “How’s he doing?” Patton asked, rubbing his eyes blearily.

 Virgil smirked up at him, his own eyelids heavy with fatigue, face drawn and far more pale than usual, “Better, I think.” He answered, “No pain today at least.”

 Logan mumbled something in his sleep, nuzzling against Virgil’s shirt and sighing. Patton grinned, hands pressing to his mouth and Virgil gave Patton a tired but understanding smile.

 “He is pretty cute, huh?” Virgil whispered, earning an excited nod from Patton.

 “I heard that.” Logan grumbled softly, burying his face in Virgil’s neck.

 Virgil’s eyes widened a little, “Oh? So you were just pretending to be asleep?” he teased, drumming his fingers gently against Logan’s side.

 Logan wriggled a little, a smile pulling onto his face, “No?”

 Virgil met Patton’s eyes again, winking at him with a smile. Despite his fatigue, Virgil seemed to be in a better mood now than he’d been in yesterday, and Patton wasn’t entirely sure why. He didn’t look…lost, anymore. Maybe that was it.

 “Don’t worry about cooking breakfast.” Virgil gently murmured to Patton, “Come here.”

 Patton hesitated, “Kiddo-“

 Logan shifted himself to sit against Virgil’s side, but Patton could almost feel the waves coming off Logan. The jealousy, the irritation, the possessive nature Logan never had before. But he really, _really_ did need some cuddles. His skin was starting to itch.

 When Virgil lifted an arm in invitation, eyes shining with love and concern, Patton couldn’t say no. And once he was sitting against Virgil’s other side, he couldn’t help but sag against him.

 “I think a nap is in order.” Virgil whispered, his head already leaning against Logan’s.

 “We just woke up-“ Patton tried to protest.

 “Shhh.” Virgil whispered, eyelids barely fluttering open to meet Patton’s eyes, “Nap.”

 Oh. _Oh_. Virgil needed a nap. He…couldn’t sleep without them?

 That was a problem for when they woke up, he guessed. Even with Logan’s waves of emotion, Patton smiled and let his eyes flutter closed, sighing against Virgil’s shoulder, “Alright, kiddo.”

 Logan shifted, pressing himself against Virgil’s side, hooking his leg over one of Virgil’s. Virgil hummed, pressing a kiss to Logan’s hair and squeezing his shoulders.

 “Love you…” Virgil groggily whispered, yawning once before he hummed again.

 

* * *

 

 This was _not_ going according to plan. This was the exact _opposite_ of what it wanted. It had been bad enough that Virgil had panicked last night, fleeing his advances. Hadn’t he merely done as Roman would? Then why had Virgil _demanded_ to be released? How had he frightened him so badly?

 The sight of them all cuddling on the couch hadn’t helped his mood one bit. It had sent him over an edge he didn’t realise he was trying to balance on. There they all were, as though nothing was wrong.

 Logan peacefully snoring into Virgil’s shoulder, his body language perhaps a bit more possessive than usual, but otherwise relaxed.

 Virgil twitching occasionally, but otherwise completely at peace, lying back against the couch, one arm draped around each Side.

 Patton, curled up against Virgil’s other side, clinging to him like Virgil was the only thing left to him. Perhaps that had brought a small smile to it’s face, but it wasn’t enough.

 It wouldn’t be enough until Patton had nothing left.

 And if that meant tearing Virgil away from them…well, that’s what he’d have to do.

 Logan would surely fall apart quite quickly without his little rock, his foundation, but that was merely collateral damage. Logan had played his role, and he’d played it perfectly.

 What happened to Logan at this point didn’t matter.

 His boot heels clicked obscenely loud compared to the silence of the long hallway, echoing down and back again as he marched down the darkened stone hall. A dim candle light appeared in the distance, and for the first time, Hatred wondered why he’d chosen to stash Roman so far away. It was already proving to be quite the pain to trek this far.

 Even if his only goal was to unleash some of his rage.

 He fiddled with a ring around his finger, hands clasped behind his back. Maybe there would be no harm in moving Roman a little closer to the mindscape. The others may be trying to keep everything _appearing_ normal, but they still hadn’t caught on.

 None of them were looking for Roman yet.

 The prince stirred when Hatred was still quite a distance away, grumbling loudly as he lifted his head and blearily blinked into the darkness. Despite the damage Hatred himself had received to his face, Roman was far worse.

 “Greetings, Roman.”

 The prince blinked at the darkness a few times, “Oh, it’s just _you_.”

 A shock of offense rolled up Hatred’s back, but he tried to push it down, “And who were you expecting?” Hatred asked as he finally came into view.

 Roman’s eyes were dark, masked by the dim candlelight, but a fire was still burning deep in the Prince’s eyes. “Even _Doubt_ would be better than _you_.”

 It appeared the prince was hardly civil first thing in the morning, though Hatred supposed he shouldn’t have expected otherwise. Or perhaps the pain of his injuries had finally gotten to him.

 Roman saw something, smirking suddenly despite his injuries, “Oh, I bet someone pointed out that hideous thing.” He lightly jeered, blood stuck between his teeth as he laughed bitterly, “Can I guess who it was?”

 Hatred felt his jaw lock, but managed to grit out a response, “You knew this would happen?”

 “It had to be Virgil.” _How did he know?!_ “Logan’s too hurt and Patton…” a shock of disgust and rage roiled through Hatred at the mention of the Side’s name, “Well, Patton-“ Another shock of disgust and rage, “Has been rather absent as of late.”

 Hatred narrowed his eyes at Roman, drifting idly toward one of the tables. The pliers he’d used the day before remained where he’d tossed them.

 “Oh, and no. You could call it…an _experiment._ ” Roman tilted his head, watching Hatred with idle interest.

 “How did you enjoy your night?” Hatred mused, keeping his attention on the tools, his mind flashing to Virgil’s reaction to him.

 “ _Bored_.” Roman groaned, “Next topic.”

 Hatred’s hand twitched, hovering over a smaller set of pliers, this one unmoved from it’s original position, “Tell me, Roman,” he slowly picked them up, “How _attached_ are you to your fingernails?”

 Roman huffed, “Physically or emotionally?”

 Hatred smirked as he gently willed the black solid to shift its form, forcing Roman’s left hand to move, stretching it out in front of him. Roman cried out in surprise as the black gave way, to his wrist. Small tendrils wrapped around the middle knuckle of each finger, pulling back until Roman’s palm was exposed.

 More small tendrils snapped out to the top knuckle of each finger, forcing them back as Roman cried out, trying to fight back.

 “Emotionally, Roman.” Hatred purred, “I am well aware of how attached you are to them _physically_.”

 Fear flashed in Roman’s eyes before he looked down to his hand and he smirked, “If I recall correctly, Hatred,” Hatred narrowed his eyes, “Anything you do to _me_ will reflect on _you_.”

 Shit.

 “Do you really think they won’t find it odd that you _ripped off your own fingernails?_ ”

  _Fuck_.

 “So,” Roman relaxed, and Hatred felt the feedback from the black solid, “Got another idea?”

 Hatred grit his teeth, tossing the pliers aside for another tool. Roman had seen it before, his eyes flashing with surprise, but he didn’t actually know what it was for. Hatred did.

 “Oh, _plenty_.” Hatred growled, his frustration nearly giving way to rage. But it was too soon for _that_. The small metal rod warmed just beyond the handle with a lot of help from their magic, slowly turning red hot. “I had a _horrible_ night, Roman.”

 Roman rolled his eyes, still all too calm in the face of Hatred’s burning fury, “And you’re going to take it out on me?”

 “Precisely.” Hatred mused, lifting the metal rod once it was red-hot, “And you’re going to tell me Virgil’s weakness.” He held the metal rod just shy of Roman’s skin, watching the hand twitch instinctively, “Or it’s going to start to _hurt_.”

 Roman laughed, though it was a little more nervous than he may have intended, “I don’t _know_ his weakness, Hatred.” His eyes flashed when they met Hatred’s, “And I won’t be the only one bearing the marks.”

 Hatred didn’t much care at this point. He lay the red-hot metal across Roman’s palm, relishing the agonised cry as Roman threw his head back and tried to pull his palm free of the metal.

 Hatred yanked the metal rod away, watching Roman’s head fall forward. Opening his left palm, Hatred watched the burn appear on his hand, but he felt no pain from it.

 So, this was how Roman had tricked him.

 Clever Prince.

 “Oh, I’m sure you know Virgil’s weakness.” Hatred, hovered the rod back over Roman’s hand, “And I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

 Roman lifted his head again, “Honest to _god_ , Hatred, I don’t know.” His eyes were filled with tears from the pain, but Hatred didn’t see anything that indicated a lie. It was hard to hurt him when Roman was telling the truth, “None of us do.”

 “Well, that’s unfortunate.” Hatred tossed the tool away, hearing the metal hiss as it burned into the wood of the table, “Looks like I’m just going to have to bring Virgil _here_ then.”

 Roman blinked at him, eyes wide, “What?!” he tried to wrestle for his hand, but the tendrils pulled it back a little too far and he winced, “Why?!”

 Hatred smirked. Hmm. A potential weak spot maybe?

 “Virgil isn’t _really_ my target, Roman.” The emotion chuckled, “I thought that was obvious.”

 Whatever good mood Hatred had managed to wrestle for was immediately dashed when Roman chuckled bitterly, “Well, yeah, it’s Patton.”

 “Morality.”

 “ _Patton_.” Roman corrected, grinning broadly when Hatred glared at him, “You don’t know _any_ of us very well, do you?”

 Hatred narrowed his eyes, trying to fight the surge of rage that was rushing through him, “I know you well _enough_.”

 “But you _don’t._ ” snapped Roman, eyes flashing in the dimly light room, “You continue to under-estimate me. You continue to fail to predict Virgil’s responses. You continue to _hurt_ Logan, because you don’t know how to utilise him.” Roman’s grin grew as Hatred remained silent, “The only thing you seem to be succeeding at, are your pathetic, _weak_ attempts at hurting Patton.”

 Well, that did it.

 Hatred picked up the heavy pliers in his hand, heaving its weight as Roman tilted his head back and grit his teeth, jaw flexing. And without thought, Hatred swung at Roman’s hand.

 

* * *

 

 An agonised, terrified scream shot through Virgil’s dreams, waking him with a start, his grip tightening on Logan and Patton as he stared wide-eyed out into the mindscape.

 The cries continued to echo through his head, turning into whimpers and shouts. He couldn’t make out the words, but there was two of them. Angry, hurting, sad, enraged, tormented.

 Virgil felt Patton shifting, looking up at him curiously. Even though his breathing stuttered, and even though he felt the terror as his own, Virgil couldn’t help but grin and sigh in relief.

 He _was_ alive.

 “Kiddo?” Patton finally managed to get through Virgil’s daze, “You okay? Nightmare?”

 Virgil shook his head, still grinning, hope shining in his eyes for the first time in days, “I’m…I’m fine, Pat.” He pulled the confused Side closer, pressing kisses to his forehead to his temple and down to his jaw, “I’m _perfect_.”

 Logan grumbled, “What’s going on?” he asked.

 Virgil needed to go out there and keep looking for Roman, but to do that, he needed Patton to look after Logan.

 “Hey Pat?”

 Patton beamed shyly up at him, still a little overwhelmed from Virgil’s sudden show of affection. He’d reserved that display for Roman and Logan thus far, “Yeah, Virge?”

 “Can you grab Lo’s glasses for me?”

 Patton nodded, breaking away to grab them and without thinking, tried to slide them onto Logan’s face. His fingers brushed Logan’s wrist as he went to lean closer, and Logan yelped, jerking away.


	12. Prince in Distress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: What's this? What's this? A third chapter in a day? You're damn right! I just wanna keep writing (and probably will) but I'll limit myself to a third update for today XD Give you guys a break hehehe
> 
> Warnings: Blood, Descriptions of Injuries, Implied Abuse, Swearing

** Prince-In-Distress **

 

 Logan pulled his wrist close, pulling away from Virgil and trying to study the wound. Virgil gently took the glasses from Patton, keeping him close and offered them to Logan. He shoved them clumsily onto his face, scowling down at the burn on his wrist.

 “Logan?” Virgil spoke gently, Patton curling up into Virgil’s chest, “Can I look at it?”

 Logan frowned at him, looking between Patton and Virgil, before he offered his wrist. He frowned as Virgil carefully studied the burn, his fingers gentle and careful.

 “Virgil?” Logan shifted, looking from the burn to Virgil.

 “Yes, sweetheart?” Virgil twisted his wrist gently, trying to see how far the burn went.

 Logan swallowed hard, “You…remember the first time this happened?”

 Virgil shuddered, “Of course, I do.” He answered, eyes darkening for a moment before clearing them and meeting Logan’s eyes with a small smile.

 “You touched a burn on my forehead.” Logan looked back down to the burn, “The one from Patton.” Patton flinched against Virgil, “I…didn’t feel it, remember?”

 “Logan…” Virgil whispered, his eyes betraying his concern, “Are you asking me to…”

 He drew in a deep breath, slow and steady, trying to keep the pain down, “Please. If I don’t feel it…maybe this isn’t… _physical_.”

 Virgil glanced down to Patton, who was looking between them both, confused and worried. “Okay.” He whispered, gently shifting his hand, until his thumb brushed the end of the burn.

 Logan didn’t so much as flinch. There was _no_ additional pain from the touch at all. It was unnerving, to feel his wrist burning but also see Virgil touching it with no ill-effects.

 “Logan?” Patton murmured, slowly straightening himself from under Virgil’s arms, “Where does the other pain originate? The one that-“

 Logan pressed a hand to his heart, looking up to Patton. The usual rush of disgust and rage flooded up, but it was bitter. It wasn’t his own. It was…foreign.

 “It’s not mine, is it?” Logan whispered, looking from Patton to Virgil and back again, “It’s not _me_?”

 Virgil turned to look at Patton, “Do you know what’s going on?” he asked, sounding just as choked and relieved. Logan couldn’t imagine how much pressure Virgil had been under the last three days.

 Patton nodded with a small smile, “I do. And I can help now.” Logan looked just as relieved as Virgil did, who just about fell through the floor.

 Virgil let go of Logan’s hand, spinning around and cupping Patton’s face in his hands. Patton felt his heart skip a beat as he stared up at his dark, strange son.

 “If I knew what would happen, I’d kiss you _so hard._ ” Patton had never seen such heat and intensity in Virgil’s eyes before, such conviction, “Next time. Promise.”

 “Next…time?” Patton whispered, feeling Virgil get to his feet and wobble a little, “Kiddo, you’ve barely gotten an hour of sleep-“

 “There’s something I need to do, okay?” Virgil turned to them both, smiling that small, reassuring smile, “I love you both.”

 Before Virgil could disappear, Logan snatched his wrist, and turned him. As Virgil spun, Logan got to his feet, catching Virgil in a kiss so heated and passionate that Virgil’s wide eyes slowly fluttered closed. Logan kept a hand on Virgil’s waist, the other on the back of his neck.

 When he pulled back for a moment, “I love you so much.” Virgil panted hands resting on Logan’s waist, “Whatever you’re up to, be safe.”

 Virgil chuckled, “You know too much, starman.”

 Logan pulled him back again, another hot and heavy kiss, littered with a little fear and apprehension. As always, Virgil tempered his fears with gentle reassurances, trailed fingers and massages.

 When they broke apart again, Virgil gently shoved him back down onto the couch, “I’m gonna miss those.” He whispered with a wink, stepping back a few paces. Patton was staring down at the couch, and he paused, leaning down and pressing a tiny kiss to Patton’s neck where Logan couldn’t see, “I love you so much.”

 Patton grinned, and before any of them could say anything more, Virgil sank out.

 

* * *

 

 “You’re back.” Doubt sneered, his arms crossed over his chest as Virgil sauntered over, hands in his pockets.

 “Yup.”

 “Found him?”

 “Yup.”

 “And?”

 “And?” Virgil spun to Doubt, walking backwards as Doubt stared at him, “And I’m going to go bring him home.”

 “ _Why him_?!” Doubt asked, “You hated him for years!” trotting after Virgil, “He _hurt_ you!”

 Virgil rolled his eyes, “And I hurt him in equal measure.” Doubt’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t say anything more, “Besides, Roman plays the prince well, but he’s a damsel-in-distress more often than he’ll admit.”

 Doubt snickered as Virgil turned on his toes, sprinting off into the subconscious. He just had to find Roman. He just had to find him. Bring him home.

 And deal with whoever the _hell_ had tried to take his place.

  

* * *

 

 

 It was a bond that neither Roman or Virgil had ever been able to explain. Maybe it was because they’d been so close as kids. Maybe it was because they were closely intertwined. Maybe it because they’d worked together. Or because Roman had nearly killed him once.

 All Virgil knew was that sometimes, he could hear Roman in his head. And vice versa.

 Most of the time, it was when Roman needed him. In too much pain or scared or in _serious_ danger. And a lot of the time, that meant the Imagination.

 Roman almost never went into this part of the subconscious.

 And he was so _far out_. Why had he gone out this far? Why was he out here in the first place? A chill in the air rocked Virgil, who pulled his hoodie closer around him.

 Maybe he’d been lost? But that doesn’t explain that pain and shouting.

 ‘ _You happy yet?!_ ’ Roman screamed, voice thick with tears and pain, ‘ _Satisfied, you twisted son-of-a-bitch_!? _’_

Virgil blinked in surprise before he felt his protective instinct trying to kick in. He took a deep breath, finding the small flicker of life that told Virgil where Roman was. He really didn’t like to do this but…flight-or-fight, right?

 He sprinted, gaining more and more speed until the small flicker became a strong beam and Virgil skidded to a stop. It was a door in the middle of nowhere, and as Virgil turned to look over his shoulder, he realised there was another one just behind him.

 A red door. A door that led to Roman’s room.

 The doorknob suddenly clicked and Virgil quickly thought to dance around the door and hide as ‘Roman’ stepped out of the doorway and slammed the door closed behind him.

 “Fuck.” It tried to adjust its cuff, but it’s left hand was mangled and bloody, “There’s no way I’m explaining this to Virgil _now_.” It muttered as it strode toward the red door, “May as well grab him while I can.”

 Virgil nearly hissed a breath in through his teeth, but watched as it disappeared into Roman’s room, also slamming this door behind it.

 Then he threw the door open, staring down a dark hallway and realising he could hear soft sobbing and whimpers somewhere deep inside.

  _Roman_.

 Virgil closed the door behind him, “Roman?” he called, running as quickly as he could manage down the dark hallway, worried he’d come across some kind of trap in the darkness, “Roman, baby, it’s me.”

 “Fuck off, _Hatred_.” Roman snarled, spitting something out.

 “That’s what that is?” Virgil asked, picking up speed just a little.

 Roman grumbled, and Virgil caught sight of a flickering candle in the distance. He picked up speed again, fast approaching the candle light, before he slowed to a stop.

 There were only two tables, one on each side of the tiny cell, covered in bloodied tools and weapons. Beside Roman, was a flickering candle that made the sight of the Prince that much _worse._

Virgil waved his hand, sighing with relief as his purple flame caught and brightened the room. Roman was hanging from his wrists, his left hand a bloody, broken mess.

 “Roman…” he whispered, flicking the purple flame to the candle where it bloomed a little brighter, “Oh my god…”

 “I said ‘fuck off, Hatred’.” Roman growled, lifting his head slowly. His eyes were burning with rage and pain, barely holding back his fear as he strained on his toes.

 His regalia was torn and bloodied, discarded on the floor, even his black long-sleeved shirt was torn. It revealed old scars Virgil had never _seen_ before and brand-new wounds, his chest heaving unevenly.

 “He did this to you?” Virgil whispered, taking another step forward and he saw the flicker of uncertainty in Roman’s eyes before he narrowed his eyes again.

 “You aren’t gonna fuckin’ fool me!” Roman snarled and Virgil flinched, “I’m no- I _don’t know_ his weakness!”

 “Who’s?” Virgil asked, gently pressing his hand on his sternum, feeling the warmth that was Roman flood into his skin and a relieved smile spread over his face. Before Roman could answer, “Oh thank god, it _is_ you!”

 “What?” Roman squeaked, eyes wide as Virgil glanced over his shoulder, biting his lip as he fought tears.

 “How do I get you out of here?” he asked, voice wobbling, looking over Roman’s wrists.

 Roman didn’t answer, his breathing stuttering and Virgil finally dropped his eyes to meet Roman’s. They were wide, searching, almost as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

 “It’s…really you?” he whispered, starting to shake as tears flooded his eyes, “Virge?”

 Virgil glanced over his shoulder, straining his ears for anything before he waved his hand and he started hovering close to Roman’s face. “I’m here now, baby.”

 Relief flooded Roman’s face, his face crumpling and eyes filling with tears, “Oh my god…” he dropped his head to Virgil’s shoulder, and Virgil gently traced his fingers around the coil hanging loosely around Roman’s throat.

 “How do I get this off?” Virgil whispered, nuzzling his cheek into Roman’s filthy, blood-soaked hair. It wasn’t the first time Virgil had been covered in blood, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

 “I don’t know.” Roman whimpered, “I can’t use my magic here. I think it’s the reason he looks like me.” His shoulders shook, “I can’t believe you’re here. I’m mad now, surely-“

 “Princey, I’m really here.” Virgil reassured him.

 An idea occurred to Virgil. Roman couldn’t use his magic, but Virgil’s own magic came from Roman. Maybe…

 He waved a finger at the coil and watched it slowly start to retreat from Roman’s throat, and heard the prince heave in a deep breath, “Oh thank you,” he whimpered, trying to strain to get closer, “Thank you.”

 “Shhh,” Virgil ran his fingers through Roman’s hair once, “Are you strong enough to walk?” he asked, gently trailing his fingers up Roman’s bloodied arms. It looked like ‘Hatred’ had taken a whip and a cane to Roman. When he glanced to the table, he found even a wire he’d used.

 “I don’t know.” Roman whispered, “I’m sorry, god, I’m so sorry-“

 “Hey, Princey?” Roman slowly lifted his head and Virgil cupped his cheeks, brushing tears away with his thumbs, “I’m proud of you. For hanging in there until I found you.”

 A tiny smirk pulled onto Roman’s bloodied lip, “Nice pun.”

 “What- oh…I’m sorry.” He winced, but Roman laughed gently, shaking his head.

 “No, it’s-“ his voice wobbled, “-it’s _fine_ -“ his lip trembled as his eyes brimmed with tears, “Oh my god, Virgil…”

 Virgil waved his hand to lower him back to his feet. Roman whined softly, missing the contact, but Virgil carefully turned his back to Roman, waving a hand. The black released one of Roman’s hands, “Can you brace on me?”

 Roman tried, his feet awkwardly twisting as he braced his right arm on Virgil’s shoulder. He wobbled dangerously, “I can’t…my feet-“

 “Shh, I got you.” Virgil waved his hand, shifting just enough to catch Roman as his legs gave out under his own weight. He grunted softly as he shifted himself just enough to lift Roman onto his back.

 “You’re so skinny.” Roman whispered fondly into Virgil’s ear, drinking in Virgil’s scent as he nuzzled Virgil’s hair.

 Virgil laughed back at him, “And you’re gigantic.”

 Roman made a squeaking noise, an attempt at his usual noise of offense, but he was tired and hurting, “Are you calling me fat?” he whispered as Virgil waved his flame away from the candle and closed his eyes.

 “I’m saying you feel like a ton of bricks.”

 Roman snickered as Virgil focused on his part of the subconscious. Unlike with the mindscape, Virgil felt the subconscious moving around him, and when he opened his eyes, he was standing in front of Doubt.

 He clearly didn’t know which reflection to take on, flicking from wounded Roman to blooded but ultimately fine Virgil. “Do you have any idea how long you’ve been gone?” Doubt asked, his voice flicking from Roman’s to Virgil’s and back.

 “Pick a form and stick with it, please.” Virgil winced, “That’s really uncomfortable.”

 Doubt obviously decided to take Virgil’s, frowning deeply, “Either you took your time, or he was _way_ in there.”

 Virgil frowned he moved around Doubt to a hallway in his own subconscious, “What are you talking about?”

 Doubt followed, stepping in to open a door neither of them had used for years. Virgil carried Roman into the room, “You’ve been gone for three days.”


	13. Unexpected Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: OOF OKAY this got a bit more than I anticipated. Not necessarily a bad thing, but holy cow, Hatred is an asshole 
> 
> WARNINGS: Descriptions of Injuries, Blood, Implied Abuse (Emotional/Verbal)

** Unexpected Friend **

 

 Virgil gently lay Roman on his childhood bed, “Three days?” Roman squeaked, and Doubt lifted an eyebrow at him.

 “Nah, you’ve been gone longer than three days. Virge has been gone three days.”

 Roman twisted his head to look up at Virgil, his eyelids heavy, his entire body aching and burning. But the anxious Side suddenly looked pale, trembling slightly as he turned and started pacing.

 “Three days? Alone with…whatever… _whoever_ …that thing is?”

 “Virge-“ Roman weakly reached for him, but winced and whimpered as Virgil continued pacing. “Virge, please…”

 “Are they okay? I should have warned them. I should have brought them with me. I can’t-“

 Doubt stepped in front of Virgil, “Breathe.” He slammed his hands onto Virgil’s shoulders, “ _Now_ , Virgil.”

 Virgil drew in a slow breath, releasing it hard before taking a step away from Doubt, “Okay, right.” He ran a hand through his bloodied hair, wiping it onto his already filthy hoodie, “Okay, okay.” He ran his hands over his face, turning to Doubt and Roman, “I need to go and see what’s happening.”

 Doubt’s eyebrows shot up and Roman tried to sit up, “No, you’re not!” they both protested, turning to look at each other, “Stop it!” they both rolled their eyes, and huffed, while Roman collapsed back onto the bed.

 Virgil couldn’t help but smirk, “Doubt, you’ve spent _way_ too much time with Princey.”

 Roman laughed dryly, throwing an arm over his eyes as Doubt shifted uncomfortably, “Virgil.”

 “Hmm?”

 “You need to stay here and look after Roman.”

 “Logan and Patton-“

 “I know, I know.” Doubt sighed, “If you’ll let me…I’ll go.” Doubt didn’t meet Virgil’s eyes, “I look just like you, I know you well enough…”

 “They’ll know.” Virgil frowned, “Logan and Patton.”

 Doubt shrugged, “I’m not trying to get their approval. I’ll scope out what’s going on and then come back.” He answered, slouching a little further and rocking back and forth on his feet.

 “Doubt…why?” Virgil asked, waving his hand to summon a first aid kit and moving to Roman’s side, “You’ve…never wanted to help them before.”

 “It’s not for _them_.” Doubt refused to meet Virgil’s eyes, “Hatred won’t stop until Patton’s… _broken_.” Virgil froze, his eyes glazing over for a moment as he imagined what that _meant,_ “And that will break Thomas. I can’t imagine what the last few days have been like for him.”

 Virgil glanced nervously to Roman, “He was supposed to take a few weeks off.” He answered softly, licking a cut on his lip.

 “Okay. Okay, Doubt I’m… _trusting_ you with this.” He looked up to the aspect, eyes searching, “Please don’t…don’t-“

 Doubt shook his head, “I won’t. I owe you.”

 Roman frowned between Doubt and Virgil, but Virgil sighed and nodded, waving a hand over the aspect. He sighed, shifting his shoulders a few times, before he saluted and walked out the door into Virgil’s room.

 “You trust him?” Roman whispered and Virgil watched the door click closed.

 “Not in the slightest.”

 

* * *

 

 Doubt had never been _in_ the mindscape before. It felt…warmer, than he’d expected. How did Virgil keep his hoodie on all the time out here?  
 He wandered through the Side’s room, quickly taking in all he could. The headphones that hadn’t been touched in over a week, the computer Virgil hadn’t turned on in a few months, the books gather dust on the shelf.

 Virgil had spent so much time looking after the others, it was a wonder he hadn’t fallen apart by now.

 Doubt made a clicking noise with his teeth, stepping into the bathroom and pulling the blanket off the mirror. There was Virgil’s face, alright. He couldn’t help but touch at his skin. He’d never actually _seen_ it on himself before. It was kind of…weird. Maybe that was why his words hurt Roman so bad?

 Seeing his reflection actually follow his movements was too unnerving for Doubt and he shuddered, pulling the cabinet open to find Virgil’s make-up bag. It didn’t take him long (or a mirror) to put the make-up on, put it away and step out into Virgil’s room again.

 He’d always wanted to walk around in here. And now that he was here it felt _wrong_. He’d wanted to spend his time keeping Virgil (or rather Anxiety) company, to fight off the loneliness that had plagued him since middle school. He wanted to make the pain go away.

 But, of course, Virgil hadn’t been interested in that. He was adamant that he could take it. Then the videos started. And ‘Anxiety’ had pulled further and further away.

 Doubt shook his head. This wasn’t why he was here. He had to find out what was going on and report to the other two. He sucked in a deep breath, shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped out of the door.

 He was glad Virgil had waved away the blood on him.

 Patton spun around to him from the end of the hall, his eyes widening before he waved Doubt over, creeping to Logan’s room.

 Doubt felt the need to sneak as much as Patton did, though he wasn’t sure why, and slipped with Patton into Logan’s room. Logan was nowhere to be seen.

 “Where have you been, kiddo?” Patton whispered, pressing his ear to the door and straining to listen.

 “Subconscious.” Patton was too good at catching lies, so a half-truth would have to do.

 He frowned at Virgil, eyes searching Doubt’s, “You’re not-“

 “Shh.” Loud footsteps came up the stairs, pausing just outside Logan’s room, before fading back off to Roman’s room. The door opened and closed loudly. _Too_ loudly.

 “But-“

 Doubt pushed his hand to Patton’s mouth, gagging him and when he tried to back away, Doubt pressed him against the wall. He tried to cry out, both shocked and scared, “He’s still there.” Doubt whispered softly, feeling Patton freeze.

 After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and closed again, this time much quieter. Doubt let go of Patton’s mouth, but kept him pinned against the wall.

 “I don’t have a lot of time, Patton, so I need you to tell me what’s going on.”

 “What?” Patton squeaked, blinking up at Doubt slowly, “Where’s Virgil?”

 Doubt winced. Virgil was right, Patton caught on pretty quickly. That was something he’d ask Virgil about later. Maybe.

 “The Subconscious.” He whispered, keeping an ear out for ‘Roman’ making a return trip, “It’s complicated.”

 Patton was starting to tremble against Doubt, hands taking fistfuls of Virgil’s loose hoodie where it hung loosely from his hips. Doubt couldn’t help but feel his heart twinge. Patton was lonely.

 “Has _it_ hurt you?”

 “It?”

 “Patton.”

 Patton flinched, massaging the familiar fabric between his hands, “Not really?” he whispered, dropping his eyes to Doubt’s chest. It didn’t move with his breaths like the others. Probably because Doubt had never bothered to _breathe_ before. “He…it’s silly.”

 “ _Patton_.”

 The fatherly Side flinched again, keeping his eyes steadfastly on Doubt’s unmoving chest and clinging desperately to the hoodie. “He…refuses to call me by my _name_.” Patton whimpered, tears filling his eyes, “He ignores me…or…” his lips started to tremble, “He says _horrible_ things.”

 Doubt frowned, still straining to listen to the now silent mindscape. Maybe Virgil’s feelings were starting to leak into the form Doubt had taken. Or maybe he didn’t hate the other Sides as much as he originally thought. Either way, he couldn’t really explain why he did what he did.

 His hand moved from where it was hovering over Patton’s mouth, slipping around to slide his fingers into Patton’s hair. The shorter Side flinched and tensed, but let Doubt pull his face into his shoulder.

 “Where’s Logi-Logan?” Doubt barely corrected himself in time. Patton whimpered against his shoulder, but kept his grip on Virgil’s hoodie.

 “I don’t know.” He squeaked, voice thickening with tears, “I helped him with the…jealousy and stuff…” Patton sniffed, massaging the fabric between his hands again. “But then he and Roman had a fight-“

 “That’s not Roman.” Doubt quickly whispered, feeling Patton tense even further against him, “Just like I’m not Virgil.”

 Hearing it made it sink in completely and Patton’s knees went weak, “Where…” he whimpered, “Why am I alone with… _it_?”

 Doubt sighed gently, turning his head a little toward the fatherly Side. He wanted to ease some of his pain, and he was pretty sure that was just a leftover from being in Virgil’s form. He certainly hadn’t felt anything like _this_ for them for before.

 “Virgil went to get the real Roman.” Doubt whispered, letting Patton hide his face properly in his shoulder, “He didn’t realise he was gone for three days.” He tried massaging Patton’s scalp, “It’s too dangerous for him to come out of the subconsc-“

 A door opened in the hallway and they both tensed, Doubt straining to hear past the door, “Is that you, sweetheart?” ‘Roman’s’ sickeningly sweet voice filtered through the air, “I know you found the imposter.” Doubt felt his skin go cold, a shiver working its way up his spine, “Please give me some time to _explain_ , dearest.”

 “Patton?” Doubt tilted his head so he was whispering right into Patton’s ear, “We need to confront him.” Patton whimpered into his shoulder, “But I need you to do something for me.”

 “What?” he whimpered into Doubt’s shoulder.

 “The moment you get the chance, run for Virgil’s door into the subconscious.” Doubt continued massaging Patton’s scalp, “No matter what you hear-“

 “ _Virgil_.” ‘Roman’ whined from just outside Logan’s door.

 “-no matter what happens to me, _do not turn around_.” Doubt felt Patton shivering, “Okay?”

 “But…he could _hurt_ you…”

 Doubt sighed, rolling his eyes, “I’m not Virgil.”

 “Still.”

 What? Patton cared if he got hurt? Why the _hell_ would Patton care? Doubt forced himself to try and relax, “I know he’ll probably hurt me.” Doubt answered softly, “But he’ll make it worse for Virgil. And for you.”

 “Me?”

 “Whatever he is, he wants to hurt _you_ , Patton.” The fatherly Side shuddered, “He’s already hurt all of you in different ways. Let me try and help.”

“I…I don’t like it-“

 “I know your morality is getting in the way here, Patton.” Doubt whispered, “But trust me, Virgil’s on the other side of that door; the black, cold one; waiting. And _this_ -“ he squeezed him, “Will feel so much better from him.”

 “You’ll be alone with him.”

 “ _Sweetheart_ , why are you ignoring _me_ and spending time with _Morality_?”

 Patton flinched with a soft whine. Oh no…how long had it been since Patton heard his own name? This was going to take a long time to heal, for sure.

 “Patton, you can’t be near him. Please. Just do this one thing.” He could feel Patton barely suppressing sobs against his shoulder, “Can you do that? Run and don’t look back?”

 “Be careful.”

 Doubt grinned in response, feeling Patton shudder, “Always.” He sighed, “We’ve got this.”

 Doubt let his hand fall away from Patton’s hair and took a step back, missing the contact with the warm Side as soon as Patton released Virgil’s hoodie. Patton appeared to miss it too, no matter how false it had felt, reaching up under his glasses to wipe tears away.

 “Ready?”

 “ _Sweetheart_.” ‘Roman’s’ voice was getting terse.

 “Yeah.” Patton sighed sadly, fiddling with his hoodie sleeves as Doubt nodded, stepped to the side and swung the door open.

 “What?”

 God, Doubt thought _Roman_ looked bad.

 Whatever… _whoever_ …this was looked _worse_. For every wound he’d given Roman (which were many) he had the same marks. A cut over his cheek, a mangled and bloody left hand, blood slowly dribbling from somewhere in his scalp.

 But his skin was _cracking_. Like a porcelain doll without proper care, his skin was starting to crack and peel away. Without Roman, his façade was slipping.

 “There you are, sweetheart.” Roman purred, forcing a smile, his eyes too wide and flashing too brightly as he reached out. He was trying hard, _too hard_ to be the prince. Even Doubt knew he could do a better job than _this_. He stroked his finger down Doubt’s cheek, and Doubt bit his tongue to try and hold back a shiver, “Let’s talk in the hall, hmm?”

 Doubt rolled his eyes, shoving his hands into the pockets of Virgil’s hoodie. Whatever this was, it didn’t recognise that he wasn’t Virgil. _That_ was a plus. That meant it wasn’t a Side.

 “ _Morality_ can come out too, I guess.” It snarled the title, drawing Doubt out of the room and Patton slowly slunk out behind Doubt.

 Doubt glanced back at Patton, letting him hide behind him. It made his heart ache, seeing Patton shrinking before Roman, eyes shining with fear whenever he looked up at him. He forced a smile, “Hey, Roma-“

 “I don’t want to talk to you.” ‘Roman’ snarled, eyes dark with anger as Patton flinched and shrank a little further, biting his lip as tears flooded his eyes, “I want to talk to _Virgil_.” It purred, eyes softening just a little as it looked down at Doubt.

 “Don’t speak to him like that.” Doubt snarled back, unsure of where exactly _that_ came from, but there it was. ‘Roman’s’ eyes flashed for a moment, before a horrifically false smile pulled onto his face.

 Small flecks fell from the corners of his lips, like paint chipping off an old toy. It made Doubt feel _dirty_.

 “I’m sorry, I must be having a bad day.” Doubt had to fight a sneer, “Where have you _been_?” it asked slowly, eyes searching Doubt’s.

 He shrugged, “Just hanging out.”

 “ _Where_?”

 Doubt didn’t miss the way it’s voice hardened, and he was surprised by how frustrated it was getting already. Sure, Virgil and Roman had certainly thrown a huge wrench in whatever it’s plans were, but Doubt could see a few things it could do to _recover_.

 Maybe it wasn’t nearly as smart as it had thought itself to be?

 Doubt shrugged again, “Places.”

 It narrowed its eyes at him, “You’re being unusually obtuse.”

 “I’m not a _child_.” Doubt sneered back, “And since when have you cared this much?” he tilted his head, “You normally drop this quite quickly.”

 Its eyes flashed, gritting it’s teeth and causing more flecks of its…whatever it is, to drift down to the carpet, “Oh?”

 Doubt hunched himself a bit more, pulling the hoodie closer around him. Now he kind of understood why Virgil kept it on here. Roman was intimidating when he was mad…and he was _tall_. The hoodie felt nice and comforting in comparison.

 “What’s going on with your face, anyways?” he asked, “First the bruise and now…you’re like…flaking.”

 Here we go. Its eyes flashed brightly, seizing Doubt by the shirt and Patton squeaked as ‘Roman’ pushed Doubt against a wall. Compared to the fluttering in his chest, Doubt looked totally calm and hadn’t even pulled his hands out his pockets.

 He sure didn’t _feel_ calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Let's all welcome Doubt back! Yay! Look at my boi go


	14. Escape for the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Blood, Descriptions of Injuries, Implied Abuse (Emotional/Verbal)

** Escape for the Heart **

 

 “You’re testing my _patience,_ dear.” It growled, leaning down close to Virgil’s face, who didn’t look fazed by Roman’s behaviour in the slightest.

 It was truly clear now. This wasn’t Roman. And _that_ wasn’t Virgil.

 Patton’s chest tightened again, his arms wrapping protectively around himself. Virgil, or…whoever that was, had asked him to run. As soon as he could but…what if it _was_ Virgil? He couldn’t leave his kiddo alone to this… _monster_ in Roman’s skin!

 “Oh, am I?” ‘Virgil’ retorted, hands still calmly resting in his pockets.

 There were still cold spots where the imposter had touched him, but he’d at least _tried_ to comfort him. And that had been nice. Even though he was cold to the touch, and almost seemed to leech his own warmth, it had been nice to be _touched_.

 ‘Roman’ bared his teeth like an animal, growling deep in his throat, “Yes.”

 ‘Virgil’ snorted, tilting his chin defiantly at ‘Roman’. It had been _years_ since Patton had seen them act like this. It had been _ages_ since they’d been this antagonistic with each other. Even then, Roman hadn’t gotten physical since they were in middle school.

 “That sounds like a ‘you’ problem, princess.”

 Patton took a hesitant step backward, arms tightening as he tried to hold himself. These were copies, _imperfect_ copies. ‘Virgil’ was too aggressive, too cold, too distant. Too _confident_. ‘Roman’ was too angry, too cruel, too selfish. Everything about this was wrong. There was no banter. No smiles. No chuckles or soft touches or warm eye contact.

 This was everything Patton had _feared_. Everything he’d worked hard to avoid before the Accepting Video.

 “ _Princess?” ‘_ Roman’ growled again, hand tightening on ‘Virgil’s’ shirt and drawing him up further from the ground. He didn’t seem fazed, hardly even blinking slowly at ‘Roman’.

 It felt more like Anxiety, to be fair.

 “Yeah. Princess.” He shrugged with one shoulder, “You _are_ acting like a spoilt brat, after all.”

 Something in ‘Roman’ snapped, and he growled, throwing ‘Virgil’ against the wall. Other than a soft grunt, the anxious Side barely even seemed to notice. Or care.

 Patton took a few more hesitant steps backward. He didn’t want to see this. He _couldn’t_ see this. He wanted to hide, to cry and curl up somewhere safe and warm and never come out ever again.

 He was _scared_.

 “You are truly being _insufferable_ today.” ‘Roman’ snarled, but ‘Virgil’ blinked slowly at him again, one eyebrow raised as he nonchalantly shrugged again.

 Nearly there, Patton. He glanced nervously to Virgil’s door, which was still a little ajar. Just a few more steps and you’ll be out of sight and then-

 “And _where_ do you think you’re going?” ‘Roman’ turned his head to Patton, those dark and piercing eyes sending a spike of ice through Patton’s heart.

 Had he done something wrong? Why was Roman so mad at him? He’d tried to help! He loved him! He-

 “Leave him out of this.” ‘Virgil’ growled back, snatching ‘Roman’s’ attention away from Patton.

 “You’re just like _Logic_.” He growled, eyes narrowing.

 That was another stab of pain, and Patton quietly slipped into Virgil’s room. The influence was strong, almost overwhelming with his already fluttering heart and terrified mind, but the black, cold door was almost calling him.

  _‘Virgil is on the other side…waiting…_ ’ he recalled the imposter saying…and tears flooded his eyes as he stumbled toward the door.

 He really wanted Virgil. Or Roman. Or Logan. He didn’t really care _who_ at this point. He just wanted someone to hold him. To _touch_ him again. To call him by his _name_. It had been nice, to hear it from the Virgil imposter, but it wasn’t the _same._

 “ _Patton!?_ ” the ‘Roman’ roared and he squeaked, dashing forward for the door.

 “Leave him _out of this_!” ‘Virgil’ barked back.

 A cry of pain made Patton hesitate at the door, hand hovering over the handle, turning to look back at Virgil’s open bedroom door. Who was hurt? Please…please not ‘Virgil’. Please-

 “You little _brat_!” ‘Roman’ roared, followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the commons.

  _go go GO!_

 The handle was cold under his hand, but it turned easily and he threw it open, launching himself out into the dark subconscious.

 He stumbled as he entered, landing hard on his hands and knees as his eyes stung and burned. His chest was tight, his vision blurry as he pressed his hand to his mouth to try and suppress the sobs.

 “ _Lock the damn door!_ ” ‘Virgil’ shouted, something crashing loudly in the distance.

 “ _You’re not taking Morality from me too!_ ” ‘Roman’ roared, already thundering toward the door. Patton flinched and whimpered, pressing his forehead to the floor and covering his head with his hands, too scared to open his eyes, too scared to get up and run.

 He just wanted everything to go back to before. He just wanted to cuddle Roman and watch movies. He wanted to make breakfast and feel Virgil’s head on his shoulder. He wanted to tease Logan with puns again.

 He wanted to be happy again.

 Vaguely, Patton heard the door click closed and lock, but he didn’t recall closing it himself. He was too busy biting his lip and trying to stifle his sobs, shaking so violently he was certain the mindscape was vibrating.

 “Hey,” a soft, familiar voice broke through Patton’s thoughts, “Hey, sweetheart,” gravelly, tired and pitched low…oh he couldn’t help but hope, “It’s okay, shhh.”

 A warm, familiar hand fell onto his head, running through his hair, clearing away the cold spots that the imposter had spread onto his skin.

 “Patton, darling,” the voice continued, “Come here,” they were trying to gently pull his hands from his head, “You’re safe here.”

 He whimpered, “Please be real…” he relaxed his hold, letting them gently draw his hands away from his head, “Please, please, please,” he whispered, still too afraid to lift his head.

 “There we go,” the fingers ran through his hair properly, drawing away any of the remaining cold spots, “Well done, sweetheart,” they murmured, “Doing so well.”

 Patton put his hands flat on the floor, feeling the strange grainy feeling of the subconscious floor. He really wanted to look up, to confirm that the voice above him was really who he wanted it to be. But he was scared.

 Scared of another imposter. Scared of rejection. Scared of being wrong.

 “Shhh.” Patton hadn’t realised he’d been talking aloud. Their hands gently trailed down to his shoulders, lifting him just a little off the floor, “It’s okay, shhhh.”

 He whimpered, hanging his head as they gently pulled him toward them. A familiar shirt rubbed against his face, familiar smells filling his nose. Lavender, coffee, even a little mint.

 When had he started sobbing? Patton wasn’t entirely sure. Frankly, he was too scared to really care until now.

 “Virge…” he whimpered, slowly opening his eyes and lifting his head.

 There he was. Oh Christ, there he was.

 He tilted his head slightly to the side, a tiny, lopsided smirk pulled onto his face. His eyes shone with concern and a softly burning love, purple bangs falling into his eyes as he carefully studied Patton’s face.

 His lips parted, “Hey.”

 Blood was smeared over his cheek, dried and cracking, and he scratched at it absently, “You’re…you’re…”

 “Yeah, Pat.” He was crouched before him, balancing on the balls of his feet, “It’s me.” He kept his voice soft and gentle, his movements and touch filled with so much care and concern…

 It was him. This was Virge. _Virgil_. His dark, strange son.

 He launched himself then, arms wrapped tightly around Virgil’s waist, knocking them both to the floor. Virgil laughed, falling on his back and promptly sat up on his elbows.

 “Let me sit up, Pat.” Virgil gently urged, and Patton released him just enough through his tears that Virgil sat up, and then drew Patton up further. “I’m sorry,” Virgil whispered, letting Patton bury his face in his neck, “I didn’t mean to disappear for three days.”

 “He was so angry and I was scared and he wouldn’t talk to me and I just-“ Virgil ran his long fingers through Patton’s hair, resting his chin atop Patton’s head, “-when he didn’t ignore me, he yelled at me and Logan got real _mad_ -“

 “Pat? Pat, I need you to listen to me.” Virgil’s soft voice broke Patton’s train of thought, “Patton, it’s alright now.” He gently rubbed up and down Patton’s arm, “He can’t get in here. Not like we can.” He sniffled against Virgil, shaking as he tried to keep his tears at bay, “You’re safe now, sweetheart.” He whimpered, taking fistfuls of Virgil’s hoodie as he tried to get even closer than he already was, “If you need to cry, you can.” He soothed.

 And that broke Patton’s fragile defences. He collapsed against Virgil, wailing as he clung to the thin Side, emotions roiling through him. Relief that Virgil was _here_ and _okay_ even if he was bloody. Sadness that he’d been alone with an imposter for so long. Happy to be re-united. Angry for not seeing it sooner.

 And Virgil sat patiently, rocking him as he cried, running his fingers through Patton’s hair. He was hardly surprised that Patton needed to cry. He’d spent three days alone with that _thing_ , emotions Virgil couldn’t name, suffering _god_ knows what.

 And who _knew_ how well he’d take the sight of the real Roman.

 By the time Patton had cried himself out, he was exhausted. Again, Virgil was hardly surprised. He couldn’t help the guilt that was trying to gnaw at him, that was trying to invade his own thoughts, but there was too much for him to do.

 Gently, careful not to shift Patton too much, he bundled the Side into his arms and got to his feet, wandering over to the bed where Roman had dozed off.

 With a little focus, the bed got bigger, and Virgil lay Patton down beside Roman, wrapping him tightly in blankets and pulling off his glasses.

 There was still one Side missing. But with Doubt out of the picture for now, there was no way of finding out where he was. Not until Patton woke up again anyway.

 He carefully moved back around the bed to Roman’s side, sitting on the mattress. The royal stirred, eyelids fluttering, groaning softly in his throat.

 “Hey there, Princey.”

 Virgil had managed to clean most of his face, but it was still a mess. The left side of his face was swollen and bruised, eye swollen completely shut, lip split and Roman _still_ tried to smile up at him.

 “Hey.” He croaked, wincing before swallowing hard.

 “Patton found us.” Virgil reached for a small bowl of bloodied water, pulling out the warm rag and started cleaning around the royal’s throat.

 “Is he okay?!” Roman tried to sit up, but his wounds caught up to him. Groaning with fatigue, dizziness and pain, he collapsed back onto the mattress.

 “Upset, but not physically hurt.” Virgil frowned as he focussed on gently cleaning Roman’s throat. He felt the prince swallow instinctively, and Virgil felt his heart breaking as he saw the deep bruise beneath all the blood.

 “Hey.” Roman whispered suddenly, and Virgil stopped to meet his eyes. Despite his injuries, his pain and fatigue, he was trying to smile, eyes shining with warmth Virgil had _missed_ , “I’ll be okay. _We’ll_ be okay.”

 Virgil bit his lip, lowering his gaze from Roman’s and only nodded, his throat closing as he tried to focus on cleaning Roman up.

 “Virgil.”

 He winced, shoulder’s drawing up a little.

 “Thank you.” He whispered, his right hand coming up to rest on Virgil’s thigh. Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, trying to will the tears away. “You’ve been so strong these last few months, for all of us.” With what little strength he had left, Roman squeezed his thigh.

 “I had to, didn’t I?” he asked softly, opening his eyes as his voice cracked and broke. He finished cleaning Roman’s throat and moved to his collarbone. He gently avoided a large gash right over the bone itself, “We…needed someone to lean on and…and I was okay.” He shrugged, “I was fine.” Roman squeezed his thigh again, “I’m fine.”

 “No, you’re not.” Roman whispered, “But that’s okay. It’s fine to _not_ be fine.”

 Virgil couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face, “That’s my line.”

 Roman chuckled weakly, “I _know_.”

 “It just…hurts, ya know?” Virgil kept his eyes on his hand as he gently cleaned around the wound and reached for the first aid kit, “Seeing you like this…knowing I didn’t-“

 He felt Roman squeeze his thigh again, “Don’t you dare start blaming yourself.” His tone was firm, but not unkind, “You figured it out.” A tiny whimper escaped Virgil as he tried to keep the tears away, “You _did_. Far sooner than I expected.” Virgil’s eyes snapped to Roman’s, wide and pleading and scared, “C’mon. He was convincing for a bit.” Roman smirked.

 Virgil scoffed softly, wiping at his eyes and smearing black eyeshadow over his face. Either he didn’t care or hadn’t noticed, “For like…a few hours.” He pulled out an alcohol wipe and ripped it open, “Wanna know the first sign something was wrong?”

 “Hmm?” Roman gently stroked his thumb over Virgil’s thigh, grounding them both in the present.

 “The banter was pretty piss poor.” He admitted.

 Roman snorted before he laughed, “What? Really?”

 Virgil nodded, “If there even _was_ any.” He shuddered as he remembered the night ‘Roman’ or Hatred had refused to let him go, and he shakily put the wipe on Roman’s chest.

 “Virge?” Virgil covered his eyes with the heel of his hands, breathing in shakily, “As much I don’t mind being a shelf-“ that earned a shaky, sad laugh from Virgil, “-what-“

 Virgil hissed in a breath through his teeth, dropping his hands and hurriedly picking up the wipe again, yanking it from the packaging.

 “Sorry, sorry.” He swallowed and tried to clear his throat, feeling Roman’s eyes on him, “I just- I’m fine.” He focussed on the wound, shakily cleaning around it and gently pressing the wipe over the wound itself. As Virgil had come to expect, Roman arched his back and hissed in a breath.

 But when Roman’s hand tightened over Virgil’s thigh, he jerked, taking the wipe with him and got to his feet with a tiny yelp.

 Roman calmed his breathing, eyelids fluttering open as Virgil waved the wipe away. “Sorry,” Roman wheezed, “I’m sorry, sweetie, are you okay?”

 He wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t. And it wasn’t even Roman’s fault.

 “I’m sorry.” Virgil whimpered, pulling his hoodie down a little to reveal the bruises on his arms, “He…”

 “What did he do?” Virgil knew it was a question. He knew he didn’t _have_ to answer. But Roman’s jaw had tensed, his eyes burning as he stared at the bruises on Virgil’s arms. His eyes flicked to meet Virgil’s, the fire inside them tempered by love and worry, “Sweetheart, what did he do?” he asked again, gentler this time.

 Virgil drew a deep breath, approaching the bed and sitting back down beside him. “It’s…I mean…” he distracted himself with another alcohol wipe, before finally launching into the story.


	15. So Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm...kinda sorry for this one XD
> 
> Warnings: Physical Violence, Description of Injuries

** So Close **

 

 There were few times Logan had ever been grateful that the subconscious existed just outside his room. In fact, he hadn’t been particularly _fond_ of the subconscious since the day Virgil had…changed.

 And, he supposed, they had all changed that day, hadn’t they?

 He remembered what it had been like that day, returning empty-handed, unable to pass the border into Virgil’s territory. Not for a lack of trying, mind you. Logan had little to no grasp on emotions then. He was merely Logic, a Side with a title but no name.

 A _function_ and nothing more.

 And at the time that had been enough. He had been content with being nothing more than a function. He had a job to do and he was willing to do it. There was no need to get wrapped up in complicated, confusing emotions.

 He made little to no effort to understand, or listen to, either Roman or Patton then. In fact, if Logan recalled correctly, Roman had been the only Side with an _actual_ name. Patton had been considering one. Logan had refused. He couldn’t actually recall ‘Instinct’s’ response.

 It was likely to have been nothing more than a lopsided smirk, tilting his head so his hair swayed, before shrugging.

 After that day, chasing Virgil… _Instinct_ , through the Subconscious, watching his flight instinct truly kick in, Logan had _felt_ something. It had been sharp, piercing and hot, right where his heart was.

 Logan smirked fondly to himself now, remembering how panicked he had been initially. How he fell to the ground, where the ground felt like sand, clutching at his heart and feeling his cheeks as he cried for the first time.

 It had taken him hours to calm down, if he recalled correctly. He’d been alone, and afraid, for the first time. Even his physical symptoms had made no sense. Shaking, sore eyes, raw and itchy nose.

 Of course, Logan had done a great deal of research since then. He’d spoken with Patton eventually about it. He accepted that emotions were going to be a part of him, even if he didn’t share them directly with Thomas like the others.

 And he was okay with that.

 Roman’s change had been a little more subtle. Guilt plagued him, but he didn’t want them to know. To ask. So, he’d become almost insufferably proud. And _loud_. Logan learned anger and frustration from Roman.

 Patton’s change?

 Logan sighed sadly as he walked through the Subconscious, passing by his racks of books but not really paying attention to any of them.  
 Patton’s change had been almost as severe as Virgil’s. Logan recalled him blaming himself, losing his temper, throwing books and games wildly through the commons. He recalled how frightened Roman was by it all, that he’d curled up and cried.

 Unable to understand, still shaken by his own emotions, Logan had stood frozen on the stairs and stared. And when Patton had finally spent all of his energy, seen his destruction laid out before him, and still no Virgil, he’d run off to his room.

 When he’d returned, he was how Logan knew him now. Although, admittedly, far more… _syrupy_.

 It had been nice to see Patton letting go of those walls. It was just unfortunate that once more, their family and home was being completely over-turned.

 Logan finally reached the outskirts of his own section of the Subconscious, where his library met Virgil’s…well, he wasn’t actually _sure_ what Virgil called his part of the Subconscious.

 Roman had the Imagination. Logan the Memory Archives. Patton…didn’t appear to really _have_ a section for himself. And Virgil-

 Logan’s blue tiled floor suddenly gave way to dark, writhing shadows, a border of sorts that he hadn’t been able to cross all those years ago. His library had been smaller then, sparser too, but it hadn’t always looked the way it did.

 It hadn’t always been the dark, stretching expanse of _nothing_ that it was now. It hadn’t always been inhabited by shadows that moved and whispered and _clawed_. Save for a few places Virgil had declared ‘safe’, Virgil appeared to be the only Side capable of moving through his section of the Subconscious without coming out…different.  
 Or, that’s what Instinct had said all those years ago.  
 Logan looked to his left, hands clasped tightly at the small of his back, not really sure who he was trying to hide his nerves from.

 There was Virgil’s desk, an old worn out thing, covered in scars and graffiti. Books were open and abandoned, torn or tossed on shelves. It made Logan wrinkle his nose at how poorly Virgil cared for the memories but…

 They weren’t exactly _pleasant_ memories.

 He was procrastinating and he knew it, but he still wandered to the floor where blue tiles turned ash grey. It was an unspoken agreement that Logan wasn’t to enter this tiny section of the library. And until now, he never had.

 But maybe…maybe encroaching on it might get Virgil’s attention.

 And if it did?

 Logan took a deep breath to steady himself, feeling his gut shifting uncomfortably with the weight of what he was about to do.

 Virgil had better come _fast_.

 

* * *

 

 Virgil _owed_ him for this. _Big time._

 His first ever journey into the mindscape, and he gets his ass beat by…whatever the hell ‘Roman’ is. Doubt scowled down at his hands, shaking as he hid in a dark closet somewhere in the mindscape. This was not a part of it he recognised, since there were no mirrors or even photo frames on the walls, but at least he had a moment to think.

 Whatever ‘Roman’ was, he was too damn strong for Doubt to deal with on his own. He may have Virgil’s form and some of his lingering feelings, but he didn’t have the same skill Virgil had at combat.

 Doubt didn’t fight with his fists, to be fair. He was better with words. That’s why he didn’t mind the mirrors so much. Man…what he wouldn’t give to just jump into one of those right about now.

 Heavy, slow footsteps approached down the hall. ‘Roman’. Doubt was certain that Logan was no longer in the mindscape, and hadn’t been for some time. From what he recalled of Logan’s room, dust had started settling. Barely noticeable, sure, but this was _Logan_.

 He was the neatest of all the Sides.

 But it definitely wasn’t like Logan to just leave Patton behind. That being said, Virgil had seemed surprised that they’d been gone three days. Was the subconscious adjusting time? Was…was ‘Roman’s’ presence upsetting the balance?

 If so…was Doubt’s?

 His thoughts stuttered to a stop as the footsteps stopped in front of the closet. Doubt carefully, and slowly, moved onto his feet at a crouch.

 If that door opene-

 It swung open, light shining suddenly into the closet, but Doubt didn’t give ‘Roman’ a chance to react. He lunged for the floor just beyond his legs, managing a sloppy roll before he was back on his own feet and tearing down the hall.

 “ _Virgil_!” ‘Roman’ roared, chasing after him with heavy, loud footfalls. “This is getting _tiresome!_ ”

 Of course. Of course, he’d _forget_.

 ‘Roman’ waved his hand, and something suddenly wrapped tightly around his ankle. Doubt yelped as he was plummeted face-first to the carpet, grunting as he tried to yank his ankle free.

 Hearing a dark chuckle beside him, Doubt twisted himself onto his back, barely managing to block a punch ‘Roman’ had intended for Doubt’s face.

 “Tell me where he _is_!”

 Doubt dodged another punch, hearing ‘Roman’s’ knuckles make an awful crunching noise against the carpet, before he grabbed Doubt’s throat. He wasn’t squeezing hard, but Doubt didn’t bother to breathe.

 All it really did was hold him still.

 All the same, Doubt clawed for ‘Roman’s’ face, managing to rake off a pretty substantial chunk of…whatever it was that was flaking off.

 It was caught under his fingernails, like old dried glue and Doubt wrinkled his nose as he felt the magic uncoil from his ankle and ‘Roman’ howled with pain.

 Taking his cue, Doubt shot to his feet and took off back down the hallway toward the commons.

 He couldn’t die, and the wounds weren’t particularly painful…but that was little comfort when he was trapped here…alone…with _that thing_.

 

* * *

 

 Virgil carefully cleaned around the wound, careful not to upset the stitches he’d put in place. Roman had managed to sit up, studying his left hand silently as Virgil worked quietly on his back.

 “I’m sorry.” Roman whispered, his voice breaking the otherwise silent room.

 “For what?” Virgil asked, moving onto another wound.

 He sighed, “He hurt you.”

 Virgil trailed his fingers down Roman’s back, feeling the scars under his fingers, “He hurt you _far_ worse, Roman.” He whispered, leaning close to press a kiss to Roman’s other shoulder, “I’ll be fine.”

 Roman’s shoulders shook, “You must have been so scared…”

 With the wound cleaned, Virgil sat back a little, wrapping his legs around Roman’s waist, “It wasn’t you. I _knew_ that.” He heard Roman flinch and hiss as the alcohol wipe ran over the wound, “I just couldn’t figure out _how_ or _why_.”

 “Still…” Roman sagged forward, his right hand reaching up to try and run through his matted, bloodied hair, “Ew.” He muttered.

 Virgil snorted, “No, no ‘still’. _You_ didn’t do anything.” With the wound cleaned, Virgil shifted to kiss the nape of Roman’s neck, feeling his shiver beneath the touch, “And yeah, you are pretty gross.”

 Roman scoffed, “Gee, thanks.” He turned to look over his shoulder to Virgil, smiling, “But you don’t look much better.”

 Virgil rolled his eyes, “That’s ‘cause of you, Sing-A-Lot.”

 A soft chuckle escaped Roman, but it was breathy and sad, “Virgil?” he was looking back down at his hand, and Virgil was busily working on the stitches.

 Roman flinched, “Yeah?”

 “You think Logan’s okay?” he asked softly, “Patton…he’s…”

 Virgil finished up with the stitches, cleaning around the wound and quickly scanned Roman’s back. With no other wounds in sight, he unlocked his legs and carefully moved himself to Roman’s side.

 Odd, that Hatred went crazy on Roman’s chest more than his back.

 “Logan’s a smart guy, Roman.” Virgil got to his feet, “I’m sure he knows what he’s-“

 The pull at his chest knocked all of the wind out of Virgil’s lungs, and he spun toward the sensation. Roman slowly lifted his head, watching Virgil curiously from beneath his filthy hair.

 “What _are_ you doing?” Virgil murmured to himself, scowling out into the dark expanse. Roman couldn’t see whatever it was that Virgil could, but he tried to anyway.

 “Virge?”

 He quickly spun around to Roman, cupping his cheeks in his hands. They were so warm and gentle that Roman purred softly, nuzzling against the slightly callused skin and let his eyes drift closed.

 “I think Logan is trying to get my attention.” Virgil tilted Roman’s chin up gently, “Think you can handle washing your hair?”

 Roman glanced nervously to the nearby bathroom. It was curious that Virgil had a room in his Subconscious set up almost _exactly_ the way his bedroom was in the mindscape.

 A question for another time, perhaps.

 “Yeah…I think so.” Roman sighed, “But…before you go-“

 Roman never got to finish that sentence.

 Virgil leant down, their lips finally meeting, the anxious Side sliding his hands down to Roman’s neck and then shoulder’s. Roman was hesitant, too gentle and worried, but Virgil pressed back, feeling Roman slowly open up to him. He gained his confidence, relaxing into the motions, his good hand rising to rest on Virgil’s hips.

 When Virgil pulled back, Roman was a little out of breath, eyes shining as he looked up at Virgil, “Well, that beats whatever I was going to ask for.” Roman teased, and Virgil grinned back at him.

 “Good.” He whispered, pressing another warm, passionate kiss to Roman’s lips before pulling away. His touch lingered as he jogged into the Subconscious and then disappeared entirely.

 Roman sighed, fingers gently trailing over his warm lips before a smile pulled onto his face. Virgil really was more affectionate that Roman had ever given him credit for.

 

* * *

 

 Logan frowned at the unpleasant sensation shooting up his leg, before he raised his eyes to the rest of the small study area.

 “What are you doing?”

 Logan yelped, jumping and spinning toward the voice, stumbling further in. Virgil had his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, an eyebrow raised, the faintest of smiles on his lips.

 There was blood dried on the side of his face and peppering his hoodie, but he hardly seemed fazed. Perhaps that meant he wasn’t injured.

 Virgil’s eyes darkened slightly, “Lo…what happened?”

 Oh, right. Logan’s hand drifted to the side of his face, flinching from the slight ache at the touch. “Roman is…Well…I’m not sure.”

 Virgil gave Logan a small smile, “I know.” He whispered, “I meant…” his eyes darkened further, “Did he _hit_ you?”

 His heart stuttered at the darkness in Virgil’s eyes, the way his jaw was tensing, the way his eyes carefully scanned over him. “I…yes.” He adjusted his glasses, “I got into an argument with him.”

 Virgil forced himself to take in a deep breath, “It wasn’t Roman.” He answered calmly, “But what were you arguing about?”

 Logan couldn’t help but give Virgil a wry smirk as he stepped back onto the familiar blue tiles, “How he was treating Patton.” He sighed and smoothed his hand over his tie, “It was…odd.”

 Virgil suddenly stepped forward, arm lacing around his waist and pulling him close. Logan pulled back a fraction, staring into Virgil’s eyes. Virgil was giving him that hawkish stare, inching closer and closer, “You’re not okay, are you?” it wasn’t pitched as a question, but rather a statement.

 “I’m fine.” Logan answered, ignoring the way his gut flipped and his throat went dry, “Are you?”

 Virgil frowned at him, “ _Logan_.”

 Logan huffed, “I’m-“ Virgil lifted an eyebrow, searching Logan’s eyes again, “Okay, okay, I’m…I’m _not_ , okay?” Virgil nodded silently, his gaze softening slightly, “But I just… _Patton_ …”

 Virgil relaxed his hold and let Logan pull away, “Patton’s safe.” He answered softly, reaching out for Logan’s hand, “Is your door locked?”

 “You can do that?” Logan asked, cocking his head to the side as Virgil’s eyes widened.

 “Logan, you-“

 A hissing sound in the distance cut their conversation short. Virgil tightened his grip on Logan’s hand, dragging him deeper into the Memory Archives. The unpleasant sensation Logan had felt before was gone, but his hand was warm in Virgil’s.

 “Virgil?”

 The anxious Side turned a corner suddenly, pulling Logan close and pressing a hasty, hot kiss to Logan’s mouth, “Run, Logan. Run and don’t you dare look back.”

 Logan’s eyes darkened, “I’m not leaving your side again.” It wasn’t a request. Virgil made a tiny sound in his throat, turning to look back the way they’d come.

 “If I don’t distract it-“

 A thick, black tendril coiled around the corner and Virgil stiffened.

 “Shit.”

 The tendril shot for them, hissing loudly as it approached quickly.

 “I love you.” Logan whispered and Virgil only had time to turn and stare at him in shock before Logan shoved him hard deeper into the Memory Archives.

 Virgil fell back, landing with a hard thud on his back, and looked up to see Logan smiling gently at him, before the tendril wrapped tightly around his waist.

 “ _Logan!_ ”

 He tried to get to his feet, he reached for Logan, their fingertips barely brushing, before the logical Side was snatched away, leaving Virgil to collapse to the floor.

 A door slammed in the distance and Virgil stared at his ash grey tiles.


	16. Romantic Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this has taken me so long to get to you guys, I've been struggling for the last four days to put anything together and Chemically Imbalanced re-awoke the inspiration to keep going.  
> Thank you for being patient with me. I really really appreciate it. And without further ado, here it is!  
> (Also, I'm returning back to my previous POV structure. I was struggling with the new method and hopefully you can forgive me for changing so fast. Enjoy!)
> 
> Warnings: Implied Abuse, Descriptions of Injuries

** Romantic Heart **

_Roman_

 As soon as Virgil had disappeared into the murky darkness that was his part of the Subconscious, Roman sighed and slowly pushed himself up off the bed. It hurt to move, his body aching and burning as he shuffled slowly toward the bathroom.

 It really was curious exactly how similar Virgil’s bedroom in the mindscape looked to the room in the subconscious.

 Catching his reflection for the first time in so long was a truly jarring experience. His heart plummeted to his stomach like a cold stone, and he half-expected to hear it start talking to him. But…Doubt was in the mindscape.

 He had to take a slow, steadying breath, shuffling toward the sink and the mirror just above it. He looked like a right mess, that was for sure. Hatred had gone to town when he’d lost his temper, and his left hand was burning as Roman kept it cradled over his stomach.

 It was a miracle that Roman was even able to look at himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d been beaten or hurt, but usually that was in the Imagination. If it was an injury in the Imagination, Roman could almost will the aftermath away, just not the pain.

 He can’t do that with real injuries.

 He frowned to himself as he finally looked down and turned on the hot water tap, fingers in the stream until the water heated up and carefully bent himself double to let the warm water rush over his hair.

 There was no way he was going to be able to wash it all properly. He had only _one_ working hand, and Virgil only appeared to have shampoo. That simply was not going to do for his hair.

 For the time being? Hot water was enough to get the blood out. It was enough for Roman.

 It took all too long with only one hand, and it hurt his back to no end, being hunched over the sink the way he way was, but at least his hair felt…better. Not perfect by any means, but better.

 When he was finally done, he straightened slowly, unaccustomed to dealing with real injuries and tired. Not only had Hatred beaten him until he could barely recognise himself, but Roman wasn’t even sure if he’d slept.

 His magic was there, but no longer his own and the longer he went without being capable of using it, the more fatigued he felt. Hatred must have been having an absolute field day with it all.

 Slowly, Roman reduced the stream until it was gentle, and carefully moved his left hand under the hot water. It hurt like _hell_ and he barely managed to bite back a cry of pain, whimpering softly to himself as he gently washed the broken appendage, but he did feel better for having done so.

 At least now he could see the extent of the damage. And it didn’t bode well.

 The wrist itself was clearly broken, the hand sitting at an awkward angle and his fingers were broken as well. Some of the bones between his knuckles and wrists were broken, but thankfully not all, and his thumb appeared to be fine. That was a _miracle_.

 The skin was broken in several places, which explained the amount of blood that had been all over the skin. The pain was a mixture between burning hot coals under his skin, and pins and needles that trailed up his arm to his elbow.

 He slowly turned off the tap and glanced up at his reflection again, studying his bruises and cuts more closely than he had before. The swelling would probably go down soon enough, but the cuts would scar for sure. He tenderly prodded at his cheek, wondering if the bone beneath was broken or if he could fix it, when he noticed something in the corner of his eye.

 Patton was sitting up on the bed, eyes wide as he stared at Roman, frozen in place.

 Roman’s own eyes widened and he whirled around to face him, taking a step back and bracing himself on the sink with his right hand.

 Patton looked terrified, eyes wide and filled with tears, his hair an absolute mess, glasses smudged and crooked on his nose.

 “Patton…” Roman breathed, gripping the sink tighter when his knees threatened to give out from beneath him, “I-“

 Patton’s eyes widened a little, his back straightening slowly, hands clutching tightly at the blanket over his lap. His hoodie fell free of his shoulders, lying in a crumpled heap behind him.

 “I’m not that monster, please, hear me out.” Roman managed to find some of his strength, straightening onto his feet, “Let me explain-“

 “Say it again.” He whispered, hands shaking in his lap, gripping the blanket so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

 What? Say…Roman didn’t understand but managed to stumble to the doorway of the bathroom, holding himself up with his good hand. His knees felt like jelly, though he wasn’t sure if it was fear, apprehension or joy.

 He wanted to hold him. So _badly_.

 The terrified, heartbroken look on Patton’s face pulled at Roman, but he was more than aware of why Patton was afraid. Of why he was shaking. Of why he was watching Roman like some kind of predatory animal.

 “Say what, Patton?” Roman asked, swaying a little where he was before trying to push himself upright.

 A glimmer of hope reflected in Patton’s eyes, tears slipping down his cheeks, lip quivering as he stared at Roman. His breathing was reduced to quivering, heaving gasps, twisting the blanket between his hands as he dared not believe what was in front of him.

 Roman wasn’t sure if he could make it past the bathroom without needing to go to the bed. He desperately needed to sit down, but he didn’t want to frighten Patton further. He wasn’t entirely sure what that monster had done, but it was enough to make him afraid.

  _Very_ afraid. Of Roman.

 “My name…” Patton whispered, trembling, sounding more heartbroken and lost than Roman had ever heard before.

 His name? Why did-

 Oh no.

 “Patton.” Roman murmured, taking a hesitant step forward as Patton continued to shake, eyebrows tilting upward, eyes stuck on Roman as he slowly lumbered forward, “Whatever that beast did to you, I’m sorry.” He paused halfway to the bed, wavering on his feet, but determined, “I’m so…. _so sorry_.”

 When had he started crying? Oh curse it, Roman didn’t even care! He meant every word, who cared if he was crying? He’d managed to stay strong. He’d managed to survive. He was a beaten, bloody, frightened mess, face-to-face with another frightened mess. Who _cared_ if he cried?

 “Please…can I…I want to…” Patton sucked in a breath as Roman carefully took another step forward. The prince hesitated, “I want to _hold you_.”

 Whatever Patton had prepared for, it clearly wasn’t that. His eyes widened even further, the glimmer of hope turning into dawning realisation, the tears still rolling down his face.

 “Roman?” he whispered, almost as though he couldn’t quite believe his eyes, “You want…to…”

 He nodded, still wobbling on his feet, concerned that at any minute, his legs would give out. He wouldn’t be surprised if they did, “Hold you, yes.”  Roman reached out with his right hand, almost pleading with Patton.

 Gods he wanted to touch him again. Wanted to hold him again. Wanted to kiss him and cradle him, and soothe his fears and _see that smile_. It _hurt_ how much Roman wanted to hold him.

 “ _Please._ ” Roman heard his voice break, feeling the air get caught in his lungs, hand shaking as he reached for Patton.

 The fatherly Side moved suddenly, surging forward and Roman felt a spike of terror race through him. What if Roman misunderstood? Was Patton _angry_? Oh no, what would that mean if he was? What-

 Patton stumbled off the bed, blankets caught around his ankles, reaching for Roman. The prince reacted without thought, closing the distance before Patton hit the ground, catching him against his chest and falling to his knees. His right arm wrapped tightly around the father figure, his left arm awkward but wrapped around him as well as he could manage.

 Great, whooping sobs broke shook Patton against Roman, wailing through his broken breathing as his hands scrambled over the prince, looking for purchase, something to cling too.

 Roman pulled him close, chest to chest, letting Patton throw his arms around his neck and burying his face in his shoulder, straddling Roman’s bloodied lap.

 “I’m here, sweetheart, it’s me.” Roman whispered, unable to trust his voice as tears streamed down his cheeks, “I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, left arm supporting Patton with his hand awkwardly twisted away, his right hand cradling the back of Patton’s head, “I’m so _so_ sorry.”

 Patton tried to talk, Roman could feel it in the way his breath was catching and he squeaked or whined between wails.

 “Shhh, don’t talk now, Patton.” Roman whispered, feeling a little shiver of pleasure at hearing his own name from Roman’s lips, “Baby, I’m here.”

Patton broke away suddenly, arms outstretched but hands comfortably bracing himself on the back of Roman’s neck. Roman brushed his tears from his cheeks, staring into Patton’s face, surprised he could see anything through his filthy glasses.

 He sat forward, pulling off his glasses to clean them on his shirt, shaking so badly he could barely grip his shirt tight enough to do so.

 “You need to see me?” Roman whispered, sniffling and gently moving his hand over Patton’s, “Let me hold them steady for you.”

 Patton made a choked whimpering sound, one that was almost a ‘thank-you’, cleaning the lenses as Roman held the frames of his glasses. He dropped his shirt, taking the glasses from Roman’s hand and shoving them clumsily onto his face.

 Roman met his eyes, those chocolate brown eyes so full of pain and torment that it broke Roman’s heart all over again. What had that monster done to his beloved Patton? What had he said? What _hadn’t_ he said? How long had Patton been without the attention he _needed_?

 Gently, moving slowly as Patton drank in all that Roman was, he cupped Patton’s cheek. He was warm to Roman’s touch, shivering slightly beneath his touch, eyelids fluttering as Roman gently brushed tears away with his thumb.

 “My darling, my dearest, my sweet, sweet Patton.” Roman whispered, feeling the other Side shiver, his lip trembling with every word Roman let fall from his lips, “I love you so much, I’m so sorry,” Patton whimpered as he let his eyes drift closed, hands sliding slowly up Roman’s chest, exploring Roman’s skin, “My sweet heart-“

 Roman was sure he had more praises and words of love that he could spew for Patton, and he could have done so until his dying day. But Patton didn’t let him.

 His hands flew up, cupping Roman’s jaw, eyes flying open with a look of determination and love Roman had never seen from Patton before.

 He would theorise later, that it might have been a little scary, if not a little exciting.

 And then there was a soft, salty warmth on his lips and Roman squeaked in surprise, his hand sliding into soft hair as he struggled to understand what was happening.

 Then he felt Patton’s hands tangling in Roman’s hair, pulling him closer, and Roman felt love swelling inside him so bright and warm he couldn’t truly contain it.

 He let his eyes drift closed, opening up to the fatherly Side, moaning softly as Patton moved with him in desperate, fervent movements. Every passionate clash of teeth was met with a gentle stroke of Patton’s neck, every needy cry was met with a content moan, every desperate twist of Roman’s hair met with a reassuring movement.

 Slowly, as Roman met all of Patton’s passionate almost violent movements with his own reassuring, firm ones, Patton started to relax.

 His movements slowed, his needy pushes for more reducing to content dips, his whines of desperation melting into soft breathy moans. Roman pulled him closer, cradling the back of Patton’s head, supporting him the best he could as he felt Patton’s hands and back relaxing, melting against Roman, the smallest of the Sides sinking against the giant.

 Roman pulled back for a moment, feeling a small twinge guilt from Patton’s needy whine, the pair of them breathless as Roman tilted his forehead against Patton’s. “Are you okay, Pat?” he whispered between soft gasps, “I need…I mean…”

 A soft whine escaped Patton, but finally he spoke, “I thought you hated me.” He whimpered, lips trembling as fresh tears started to roll down his cheeks, “I thought you didn’t love me anymore or I did something wrong or-“ his breath was hitching again, trembling in Roman’s arms, fingertips pressing into Roman’s shoulders.

 The prince was certain that if he’d been wearing a shirt, Patton would have been clinging to it.

 “Shh, dearest,” Roman massaged Patton’s scalp gently, “That wasn’t me.” He whispered, feeling Patton’s shuddering gasps easing away again, “I’m here now and I won’t let him hurt you again.”

 “C-can you s-say it?” Patton whispered timidly, eyelids fluttering open to meet Roman’s, searching deeply for something Roman wasn’t sure he had.

 “Whatever you need.”

 “My…my name?” tears filled his eyes again, his trembling increasing as he held back tears, biting his lip, “He wouldn’t…and when he did it was so full of anger…”

 “ _Patton_.” Roman whispered, letting his voice drop to a husky growl, feeling Patton shiver against him, “I’ll say it as much as you need,” Patton whimpered, eyes fluttering closed as he shivered, “For as long as you need.”

 Another tiny whimper escaped Patton, his lip slipping from between his teeth, “Thank you,” he whined softly, “ _Roman_ , I-“ his words faltered, chest shuddering with sobs he didn’t want to release.

 “Dearest, darling, sweet, Patton.” Roman whispered, gently rubbing the tips of their noses against each other and earning himself a tiny giggle, “My sunshine, my rose, my darling Heart, Patton.” He pulled back far enough to meet Patton’s eyes, trying desperately to show Patton the full depth of his love through his gaze. He could see the desperation and fear in Patton’s eyes, searching Roman’s, finding what he needed in there. “I love you so much, more than words can ever express, but I will spend the rest of our lives trying to show you.”

 Patton opened his mouth to reply, but nothing more than a squeak came out, before he was crushing his lips to Roman’s again. Roman met him this time, softening Patton’s desperation again, showing him the best way Roman knew how that he wasn’t going anywhere. That he would protect him. That he loved him.

 And he would spend as long as it took to soften the barbs around Patton’s heart, to help mend his wounds, to strengthen his resolve. To support him through his healing, just as Patton had with the prince.

 For the ones he loved? Roman had the patience.


	17. Coming to a Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You wanted to know...I'm sorry...
> 
> Warnings: Panic Attack, Violence, Description of Injuries, Blood

** Coming to a Head **

_Roman_

 

 It took almost twenty minutes for Roman to pull Patton up from the floor and to stumble together to the bed, still holding him close, almost afraid that if he let go, he’d disappear.

 But there they sat, Patton straddling his lap, face in the crook of his neck, arms draped over his shoulders. He’s finally relaxed, but was still too needy to move, fingers idly tracing scars blindly as Roman rubbed his hand up and down Patton’s back.

 They didn’t need to speak. Not anymore. Patton needed the contact, of which Roman was more than happy to supply, and Roman needed to help. Something Patton wouldn’t refuse.

 It was disturbingly quiet all the same. They were listening for Virgil’s return, for Hatred’s cruel laughter, for Logan’s panicked or pain-filled cry. Something. _Anything_. Heck, even Thomas’ call at this point would have been nice.

 Not that they wanted him to see them like this.

 Despite listening and straining for a sound, for a change, they drifted together in post-tears bliss. Content to hold each other, to be together, to soak up the affection and comfort they both desperately needed.

 Patton drank in Roman’s warmth, his scent, the closeness of their bodies. He soaked up every iota of comfort Roman gave, so grateful that finally, _finally_ they had broken their awkward barriers. Months of struggling to find their boundaries, the two of them too frightened to talk about it…to finally get past them and bask in each other’s presence…

 Roman felt Patton sigh deeply against him, melting further and relaxing after being tense for so long, “Tired?” Roman asked groggily, his voice husky, eyelids heavy as he trailed his fingers up into Patton’s hair.

 The other Side hummed softly, wriggling in his lap, “Not really.” He mumbled, following a deep scar along Roman’s back and feeling the prince shiver from the touch, “When did you get all these?”

 Roman smirked, not at all surprised that Patton wanted to actually talk. “Various trips to the Imagination over the years.” He admitted softly, “This wasn’t how I wanted to show you all but…” he sighed, nuzzling his face into Patton’s hair and letting his scent of cookies and lemon-soap drift into his mind, “…it’s done, I suppose.”

 Patton sighed against him, “I think you’re beautiful regardless.” He whispered, “I love you.”

 Roman felt the little bolt of electricity shoot up his spine, “Say that again.” He whispered, husky and needy, arm sliding down to wrap around Patton’s waist.

 He felt the smaller Side smiling against his skin, “ _I love you_.”

 Roman pulled him tighter against him, shuddering slightly, “Thank you.” He whispered huskily, pressing a few gentle kisses to Patton’s neck, hearing the soft and sharp inhale of air through Patton’s nose, “ _Thank you_.”

 “Anytime, kiddo.” Patton whispered, sliding his hands up into Roman’s hair, “Where’s Virge?”

 Roman sighed, understanding the moment of bliss was at an end. But they would always return. They could always return. He relaxed his hold, letting Patton pull back far enough to meet Roman’s eyes.

 The torment and pain had faded into cautious but generous love. He was healing. But it would take more than a few fervent kisses and a cuddle session to fully recover. But there was progress, and for that Roman was grateful.

 “He went to find Logan, I believe.” Roman glanced to where he’d last seen the anxious Side, feeling a cold stone of dread slowly forming in his chest. Patton’s face mirrored Roman’s, eyes sliding to the murky darkness, “You woke up a little while after he left.”

 Patton bit his lip, eyes searching the murky darkness for something. Roman was searching himself, hoping to see Virgil. Hoping beyond hope that the anxious Side was okay. He wasn’t quite sure if either Patton or himself were ready to face that demon in the mindscape without him.

 “How long do you suppose he’s been gone?” Patton asked, concern growing on his face as he continued to search the darkness.

 “Maybe…an hour?” Roman felt Patton’s hands slowly sliding up and over his shoulders, coming to rest on his chest. The smaller Side’s fingers continued to trace scars as he thought, “Although I know he can look after himself, I’m concerned.”

 Patton nodded, “I-“

 Almost as if he was beckoned by their concern alone, Virgil appeared, stumbling clumsily forward. It appeared they had every right to be concerned. Virgil was a mess.

 He collapsed immediately to his knees, a hand clutching at his shirt over his chest, catching himself with his other hand. Grating, tiny, shaky gasps escaped his lips as he tried to push to his feet again, eyes glazed and foggy.

 Roman didn’t hold Patton back when he shifted to get up, and he didn’t linger to see what the other Side would do. They were both by Virgil’s side in moments, Roman scanning him for injuries as Patton softly spoke to get his attention.

 It was clear to the prince that Virgil had been panicking for a while, make-up streaked down his cheeks, trembling violently. His lips moved to speak but no words came out, not even a sound making it past his throat.

 Virgil met Roman’s eyes first, foggy and lost, “Hey there, Virge,” Roman’s deep voice broke through Virgil’s racing thoughts, his eyes clearing for a moment, “Pat and I are here, can we touch you?”

 A strangled whine escaped him as he nodded fervently, eyes foggy up again and going glassy as more tears slipped down his cheeks.

 Patton moved first, hand gently wrapping around the wrist of the hand on his chest, thumb rubbing over the back of his hand. Slowly, the muscles relaxed, releasing the shirt and letting Patton guide it to his chest.

 As Patton exaggerated his breathing for Virgil, letting the anxious Side grip at his shirt, Roman guided him into his lap, facing out to Patton, who slipped closer.

 Virgil tried to follow Patton’s breathing, succeeding and failing over and over, as Roman stroked his hand up and down Virgil’s arm.

 “We’ve got you,” Roman murmured, resting his chin atop Virgil’s head, “We’re here.”

 Virgil’s free hand shot up, his fingers lashing between Roman’s, clinging tightly to him. Roman could feel the thinner, slightly shorter Side trembling violently, his breathing easing just a little, before tumbling back into panic.

 “Virge? Kiddo?” His eyes shot to Patton’s, “I’m gonna start counting, okay?” Roman hummed softly, hoping the vibrations would help soothe Virgil, “Ready?”

 Virgil nodded, eyes focussed solely on Patton as the fatherly Side counted and nodded to Virgil as he slowly, ever so slowly, regained control of his breathing. Roman paused his humming to kiss Virgil’s hair, feeling the anxious Side squeeze his hand, the silent request not to stop.

 It didn’t go unanswered.

 Roman smiled into his hair, softly beginning to hum one of his favourite songs, something that surprised Virgil into a huff of laughter.

 Patton smiled as he continued counting, nodding his encouragement to Virgil and slowly but surely, Virgil clawed his way out of his panic.

 When they’d had a moment to rest, when the storm had finally passed, Virgil slumped against Roman with a whimper. “He took him.” He whispered softly, trembling against the prince, hand still clinging to Patton’s shirt, “He took Logan.”

 Patton’s eyes flicked to Roman’s, concern shining in his soft brown eyes, “Kiddo?”

 Virgil sniffled, “He pushed me aside so he would grab him and I couldn’t stop him and now-“

 “Whoa, darkling,” Roman murmured, feeling Virgil shakily inhale, “Slow down, push it _all_ out.” He listened as Virgil exhaled slow but hard, slumping again. “There we go. Slowly now, okay?”

 Virgil nodded tiredly, tilting his head back to look up at Roman, eyelids heavy but eyes puffy and red, “Hatred took Logan.” He murmured, dropping his hold of Roman’s hand. Roman gently wrapped his arm around Virgil’s waist, slipping his hand into Virgil’s hoodie to rest over his shirt, “We were running…and I was going to distract it but before I could-“ his voice broke, tears brimming in his eyes again, “-Logan…he…” Roman leant down, pressing a soft kiss to Virgil’s forehead, “…told me he loved me…and pushed me out of the way…” he was shaking again, “I couldn’t- I tried- I’m sorry-“

 Patton slipped closer, his free hands gently rubbing over Virgil’s sternum, “It’s not your fault,” he reassured him, and Roman nodded his agreement, “We’ll get him back.” He added firmly, “Hatred has done enough damage to this family.”

 Virgil sniffled, nodding and trying to wriggle his way free. Roman tightened his hold and Patton pushed him back.

 “Collect yourself first, sweetheart.” Roman murmured, “We all need to be at hundred percent for this one.”

 

* * *

_  
Logan_

 

 Logan glared at the monstrous face before him, trying to ignore the iron tang in his mouth as ‘Roman’ glared back, his skin flaking off into dust.

 Virgil…or rather, Doubt, was lying on his side on the floor, his back pressed against the far wall of the common’s. Roman…or whatever it was, had rearranged the room to suit his needs.

 The couch was gone, no doubt stashed somewhere else in the commons, since it was unable to create anything new. The coffee table was upended, thrown against the breakfast bar, the dining table broken beneath it.

 Whatever it was, the creature still trying to masquerade as Roman stood in the centre of the now empty space, a grin growing on its face as it looked up at Logan.

 Suspended from his wrists, feet hanging inches from the floor, Logan could feel the strain already building in his wrists and shoulders. ‘Roman’ had already had a hell of a time punching at his chest, and even though he was clearly capable of breaking bones, he had only left bruises.

 Doubt was watching carefully from beneath his bangs, eyelids fluttering, bloody and broken in ways that Logan hoped he’d never see Virgil truly in.

 “Enjoying your stay?” ‘Roman’ mocked, head tilting with that vicious grin, more pale flakes floating off his face into the air.

 Logan rolled his eyes, sneering back at ‘Roman’, imitating Virgil as best he could from memory, “You’re hardly a gracious host.” He growled back, flexing his hands and tensing for the strike that was coming.

 He had predicted correctly, as ‘Roman’ swiftly punched Logan in the chest and stomach a few times, standing back again and waving his hand to summon a weapon. A whip of some kind.

 Coughing weakly, shuddering with pain, blood pooling in his mouth, Logan watched him fiddle with the whip, watching Logan’s face for a reaction. One he wouldn’t get.

 Slowly, he raised his eyes to ‘Roman’ looking as indifferent and serious as ever. ‘Roman’s’ smile faltered, his eyes darkening, “You’re disappointing me.”

 Logan rolled his eyes, “I’m hardly surprised.”

 The first lash was a burning pain that snapped Logan’s head back with a cry, his hands clenching and relaxing, fighting the urge to curl up. Tears pooled in his eyes, letting his eyelids fall closed and steadying his breathing.

 Virgil didn’t need to hear this.

 The second crossed the first, burning pain snapping though him over and over, as ‘Roman’ grunted and growled with each swing.

 “Why Virgil is attracted to you at all is a wonder to me.” ‘Roman’ growled, pausing for a moment to close the distance between them, “You’re hardly an attractive figure, you’re emotionless, and stupid beyond measure.” Logan let his head fall forward, meeting ‘Roman’s’ eyes to glare.

 “ _You_ don’t know me.” He spat, feeling a small rush of pride as ‘Roman’ recoiled, “ _You_ aren’t Roman.”

 ‘Roman’ rolled his eyes, wiping the spit from his cheek, “It took you this long to notice?”

 Again, Logan rolled his eyes, “This my first time even _seeing_ you.” He snarled, glancing nervously down to ‘Roman’s’ hand as he shifted the whip, “I’ve been too busy _sleeping_.”

 ‘Roman’ growled deep in his throat, grabbing Logan by the collar of his shirt and ripping it open, “You’re going to regret pissing me off, _Logic_.”

 Logan cried out in shock as ‘Roman’ tore his shirt and tie off, tossing the tattered fabric aside and spinning Logan around to face the wall.

 He took a deep breath to steady himself, preparing for the pain that would inevitably come, even as his chest stung and burned.

 “Feeling better?” Logan mocked, staring resolutely at the wall as he awaited the first swing.

 He wasn’t prepared for it, his head thrown back as ‘Roman’ continued to snap the whip over Logan’s back, the logical Side’s cries growing louder and more guttural with each new swing.

 He could feel something wet sliding down his back, arching with each swing to try and escape the next swing that was coming. He couldn’t think straight past the pain, but Logan was pretty sure he didn’t need to.

 He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

 

* * *

_Doubt_

 

 He winced with each swing, starting to twitch as Logan’s cries filled with agony and he started trying to pull away. Hatred grinned and laughed to himself, his eyes dancing with cruel lights, too absorbed in his task to notice that Doubt was starting to slowly shift from his spot on the floor.

 Logan’s back was a bloodied mess, his hair and pants stained with blood before Hatred finally relented, panting and dropping his hand to his sides.

 Logan whimpered, shifting uncomfortably, barely suppressing his sobs as his body desperately tried to make him curl up and hide. Doubt managed to push past his own pain, getting to his hands and knees, watching cautiously.

 Hatred spun Logan around again, the logical Side dropping his head forward with tiny whimpers, shuddering and twitching with his pain.

 “This is a much better outcome, don’t you think, Logic?”

 He tipped Logan’s head up with the tip of his fingers, searching Logan’s face. His glasses were crooked, sitting too low on his nose, eyelids heavy and fluttering.

 “Hmm, indeed. A much better outcome.”

 Just as Doubt was getting to his feet, he caught a glimpse of someone standing at the top of the stairs, and he glanced up. There was Virgil, his eyes wide and filled with rage, shaking violently.

 Doubt felt his blood go cold, his heart seizing as he stared up at the anxious Side.

 He’d ever seen Virgil so angry before.


	18. Brief Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK AND FINALLY POSTING?! THIS B*TCH! Oh yea! So keen to finally get this story wrapped up because HOLY LORD this thing has consumed me <3
> 
> Warnings: Graphic Violence, Strangulation, Weapon (sword), Blood

 

**Brief Reunion**

  _Virgil_

 

 He knew he should have thought about what he was doing before he did it. But hindsight was a bitch anyways.

 The feelings that flooded through him when he saw the state Logan was in? Too may for him to name accurately, even after the fact. What he did know, was that rage pushed him into a fight-mode none of them knew Thomas even _had._

 He didn’t recall running down the stairs, most likely appearing in his usual manner instead.

 Hatred jerked at the sound, eyes wide and wild, but Virgil was already moving, a feral roar escaping him as he tackled Hatred to the ground.

 It was truly a blur after that. Virgil lashed out as hard and a fast as he could, fists meeting flaking porcelain flesh, crying out like an animal.

 He was only brought back when Hatred punched him hard across the cheek, sending Virgil flying to his side on the carpet.

 Stars danced behind his eyelids for a few moments, shaking it back, only to find Hatred over him, lashing out with the same ferocity and rage. Pain danced over his cheeks, Virgil tried to block Hatred’s swings with his forearms, grunting between each landed hit.

 Hatred growled, punching Virgil in the ribs, which broke his guard with a sharp cry. Strong hands wrapped tightly around his throat, cutting off his air, and a tiny, strangled whine escaped him.

 Instinct kicked in for a second, Virgil’s hands flying for Hatred’s face, raking off flaking flesh beneath his nails. It felt so strange and disgusting, the skin catching under his nails, but all that mattered was getting oxygen into his body. All that mattered was breathing. He couldn’t- He couldn’t _breathe!_

 He could hear Hatred laughing as Virgil’s hands flew to Hatred’s wrists, still wriggling and struggling to breathe, choked and pathetic sounds escaping his lips.

 Hatred spoke, but Virgil couldn’t hear the words past the pounding blood in his ears, the burning in his lungs, the ferocious need to _breathe_! screaming through his head.

 Virgil knew he was losing the fight. Darkness was creeping in the corners of his eyes, his body losing the will to fight as he clawed and scratched at Hatred, arching his back as he tried to find _some way_ to break the hold.

 In a last-ditch attempt to break free, he dug his nails viciously into the tendons of Hatred’s wrist. He felt his nails sinking into the flesh like soft paper, heard the howl from Hatred, but he squeezed harder instead.

 Someone else was screaming now, the words garbled and distorted as Virgil felt his body finally giving up. It was too much. Too tight and not enough air and he was going to die. He was going to die and leave Thomas helpless.

 Could they even die?

 Why couldn’t he have chosen a better way of _finding out_? This wasn’t going to help any of them. He failed Logan. He failed Patton. He failed Roman. He failed Doubt. They were hurting and broken and beaten…

 He failed Thomas-

 Barely able to open his eyes, he tried to look up at Hatred’s no blurry face, digging his nails in as deep as he could manage. They sank in further, so deep Virgil was sure he would have broken blood vessels on Roman himself, but Hatred growled in response.

 “I’ll deal with you properly later-“ Hatred growled as Virgil’s eyes started to roll back in his head, “-I’m not-“

 He never got to finish that statement.

 

 

* * *

 

_Roman_

 

 He was late. Later than he’d meant to be. And Virgil nearly paid for it.

 The moment he’d risen up in the mindscape, his own temper flared. Virgil was weakly trying to kick his feet, his nails dug deep into Hatred’s wrist, his eyes rolling back in his head.

 Roman didn’t…really think through what he was doing.

 He _did_ slam the bottom of his boot into the side of Hatred’s face, knocking it off of Virgil, quickly dragging Virgil away by his hoodie.

 The other Side hacked and gasped for air, hands flying to his throat and chest, fluttering over himself as he tried to get air back in.

 Roman would have preferred to stay by Virgil’s side, to make sure he was okay, help him regulate his breathing again. But Hatred was already getting back up, growling as he shook out the stars behind his eyes, more flakes of dusty skin fluttering down to the carpet.

 “I’ve had it with you.” Roman growled before Hatred could speak, squeezing Virgil’s shoulder gently before he straightened. His wounds continued to burn and ache, but he didn’t truly care for that right now.

 His family had been hurt. _Bad_. By something wearing his _skin_. Roman wasn’t going to stand for that.

 Hatred snarled at Roman, “There you are.” It mocked, tilting its head and wavering slightly on it’s feet, “I’d very much like my face back, thank you.” Hatred waved his hand, expecting the magic to respond to him.

 But Roman felt it pulse within him, raising his own hand in response, halting the flow before Hatred could leech more from him. Hatred’s face contorted with frustration and anger, “No. Because it’s _my_ face.”

 With nothing more than a wiggle of his fingers, a sword formed in Roman’s hand, sturdy and steady in his hands.

 “Oh, I missed you.” He whispered to his blade, spinning it once in his hand.

 Hatred growled, “I’m getting tired of you getting in my way.”

 Roman snickered, “That’s a pity.” He mocked, glancing sidelong to Doubt, who was frozen in place, “I was going to say the same thing to you.”

 Hatred moved first, lifting his right hand in a curled fist, but Roman feinted around the stumbling emotion, thrusting his sword through their mid-section. It wouldn’t be enough to get rid of him. Roman knew that.

 But at least it would stop him for now.

 Roman let the hilt go, watching Hatred stumble to his knees, gasping and coughing as his hands fluttered around the blade protruding from his stomach. Virgil had managed to get to his feet, hunched as he wheezed and coughed, but he stumbled forward and kicked Hatred in the side of the head.

 Hatred fell to his side, temporarily pinned by the pain of the blade, unable to pull it free and unable to escape. Roman could see the temptation in Virgil’s eyes, the desire to hurt Hatred as much as he physically could.

 But he thought to glance up at Roman, eyes dancing quickly over the prince to check for wounds. It always amazed Roman that he did that.

 Looked out for the rest of them, over himself.

 “You alright?” Roman asked before Virgil could, glancing to Logan beside the anxious Side. The logical Side was trembling, sobbing quietly, biting his lip as he listened.

 “Yeah.” Virgil wheezed, “Yo-“

 “We need to get Logan upstairs.” Roman wasn’t going to answer Virgil’s question any time soon. He was _far_ from okay. None of them were. But if they stopped now, they’d never get Hatred dealt with.

 Virgil’s face twisted with frustration, but he squeezed his eyes closed and nodded, wrapping an arm protectively around his middle. He glanced down to Hatred, before meeting Doubt’s wide, horrified eyes, “Can you keep him-“

 Doubt blinked away his surprise, “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

 Virgil nodded with a weak sigh, “Thanks, Doubt.” He gave him a weak, lopsided smirk.

 Roman could see the distrust in Virgil’s eyes, but at least Doubt had proven himself _somewhat_ trustworthy in the last few days. And he was beaten pretty badly himself. Whatever he’d had to endure in the last few hours, he wasn’t complaining.

 The prince couldn’t help but admire that.

 Roman was slow as he approached Logan, tilting his head slightly, “Logan?”

 His glasses had fallen to the carpet, leaving him blind as Roman got closer. The logical Side flinched from his voice, kicking a little for the floor, “No, stop, I-“

 “It’s okay, baby,” Virgil’s voice was low and gentle, his eyes meeting Roman’s with urgency, “It’s Roman. The real one.”

 Logan bit his lip harder, blindly looking down at the carpet as Roman carefully studied the binds. Hatred wheezed out a laugh from the floor, moving his hand and tendrils appeared from behind Logan, prepared to lash across his already torn back.

 Roman hadn’t even had time to process and react, before someone _else_ was crying out with the pain. Virgil grunted with yet another hit, standing with his back to Logan, catching a tendril across the face. He screamed, the force of the hit splitting the skin, “Get him _down_ , Roman!” Virgil cried between hits, doing his best to keep any of them from lashing out at Logan.

 The prince moved fast, carefully wrapping an arm around Logan’s waist, feeling the sticky sensation of blood on his forearm, “I’m sorry,” he whispered as Logan whimpered, head tipping backward from the pain, “Hang on.” Roman waved his hand, his magic feeling far more powerful than it had in days, and the tendrils released Logan into his arms.

 The slight Side slumped against Roman with a soft cry, already trembling with sobs, trying to keep them muffled. Virgil stumbled back from a hard lash, hand flying to his chest. The tendrils were starting to tear his clothes, and Roman could see blood already forming from the wounds.

 A sharp cry from Hatred ceased the assault, and Roman spun to the sound as Virgil fell to his knees. Doubt was standing over the hilt of the sword, his foot applying pressure, snapping Hatred out of the concentration he needed to fuel the magic.

 Doubt looked a little better. His wounds were already starting to dissipate, slouching into Virgil’s hoodie with his hands in his pockets, “Get him upstairs.” He nodded to the stairway, “I’ve got Hatred from here.”

 The prince hardly considered arguing, grabbing Virgil by his forearm and lifting him to his feet. Virgil whimpered quietly, stumbling after Roman, “You alright?”

 Virgil laughed weakly, “Sure.”

 

* * *

_Patton_

 

 Wringing his hands alone in his room, pacing the floor, he couldn’t help the overwhelming feelings of concern as the sounds faded away from downstairs. Followed by heavy footfalls toward his door.

 Apprehension, fear and concern all shot through Patton, and he tried to keep as calm as possible as his room responded to his feelings.

 When the door flew open, Patton felt that spike of fear shoot through his spine when his eyes fell on Roman…but there was no flaking on his face, no cracks.

 Relief flooded through him, and even though tears rose to his eyes, Patton blinked them back. “Where’s-“

 “Downstairs with Doubt.” Roman answered, stepping in with Logan in one arm, Virgil held up in the other. Patton pointed Roman to the bed, closing the door quickly behind the prince.

 “Okay…how long do we have?” Patton asked, watching Roman as he sat Virgil on the end of the bed and carefully lay Logan on his side.

 “Maybe ten minutes?” Roman answered, straightening and running his hand through his filthy hair. He waved his hand, conjuring a shirt and he visibly shivered under the fabric, “That feels a _little_ better.”

 “Alright.” Patton nodded, rushing toward his closet, “The room will recognise it when it enters.” He was tossing clothes and trinkets over his shoulders as he looked for something, “It’s weak enough by now, I think, that it won’t be able to escape.”

 Virgil grunted softly as he got to his feet, wincing as he tried to ignore his pain, “Patton, you can’t bottle it up again.” His voice was slightly strained with pain, but he’d pitched it low and gentle. Patton paused, turning to Virgil.

 He was hunched, steadying himself with the bedpost, his throat already bruising. His eyes were half-open, barely masking his winces, breathing laboured as he held Patton’s eyes.

 “I know.” Patton said softly, turning back to the closet. Tears pricked at his eyes as he kept digging through the closet, “I’m just not sure I can deal with this on my own-“

 Logan whined softly, “You’re not.”

 Patton froze, turning to Logan. He could see Patton from where he was across the room, his eyes holding Patton’s with a small and warm smile.

 “You’re not alone on this.” Logan answered a little more firmly, wincing from a wave of pain.

 Slowly, Patton glanced to Roman. The prince had his arms crossed, but he was giving Patton a soft smile and his eyes were filled with gentle love. “I’m not going anywhere.” He assured him with a nod.

 Patton’s eyes snapped to Virgil, who was carefully straightening himself a little, “Me neither.” His own gaze was soft and filled with love, “Obviously, Logan _can’t_.”

 Logan and Roman both huffed with a laugh, the logical Side shifting a little to make himself more comfortable, “Correct.”

 “But-“ Patton couldn’t help the fear starting to make his stomach flip, “He’ll hurt-“

 As one, the three other Sides all cocked an eyebrow. Roman’s lips twisted into a smirk, Virgil tilted his head, and Logan rolled his eyes.

 The emotional Side couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up out of him, “Okay, alright. Yeah, that was…” he shook his head, getting to his feet and facing them, “Well, I suppose we should at least have a plan.”

 

* * *

_Doubt_

 

 The sword wouldn’t hold Hatred forever. He knew that. But he did his best to give the Sides as much time as physically possible.

 For almost ten minutes, Doubt would shift the sword whenever Hatred tried to get up, but the longer he did so, the more Hatred was able to ignore it.

 They were running out of time, and Doubt wasn’t exactly sure how long he had either. When Hatred gathered himself enough to move, Doubt didn’t even bother to try and hurt Hatred with the sword.

 He pulled it out with a violent twist, sending Hatred back to the floor with a guttural cry of pain. “Weak.” Doubt spat, and Hatred glared up at him. Doubt desperately tried not to let the glare get under his skin, wandering almost nonchalantly to the stairs and trotted upstairs.

 Nothing would annoy Hatred more than knowing his actions meant nothing. They weren’t afraid. They weren’t hurting.

 And the Sides would need _him_ for that.


End file.
